Tainted Deals

Chapter Twenty-Three

Tainted Deals

"What exactly are you getting at, Lord Baelish?" Lamor Umber's brow arched in suspicion as he leaned back in his chair warily taking in the whole of the two men sitting across from him. Three of Smalljon Umber's siblings, two brothers and a sister (that upon a casual glance due to her size and stoutness could easily be mistaken for a man) sat grimly across from Petyr Baelish and Harald Karstark.

They had traveled south upon a harried courier's bedraggled arrival revealed the results that the war had taken more than half of their army and their brother's life. The offense to their house was enough to regroup the men that had escaped death from overwhelming Stark forces along with ready reinforcements willing to make a stand for their fallen lord. The Umbers had prepared a small army intent on confronting the Starks before further claims could be made that their lands could be considered forfeit for siding with the Boltons against the Starks and their Wildling army.

The Umbers had made it to Long Lake when their procession was halted by expectant Vale delegates awaiting them on the King's Road to stop their determined march to Winterfell (apparently they had already known about their informing herald relaying the news of the battle as well as the fact that they had gathered cavalries that now rode down to face the Starks personally.) There was some debate on whether it would be better not to just kill these men and continue their trek to deal with the Starks as anticipated, but a mutual decision between the three nobles was decided (much to the envoys' relief) to instead take the detour alongside the White Knife River and answer the summons the emissaries had presented to them.

It was an understood risk coming to Moat Calin with the knowledge that it now housed a fair number of the Vale's cavalry army in its well-fortified walls, but so was it a risk to charge to Winterfell where many of the noble houses that had retaken the keep still lingered with their own personal forces alongside an encampment of unpredictable savage Wildlings. Harald Karstark had sent the Umber house a personal missive coated with a wax seal of a sun. It had come from his ring (or someone had taken it… or the hand or finger it rested upon to use the ring's signet to lure them here.) Either way, after their eldest brother's defeat at the hands of House Stark, and the reclaiming of Winterfell from House Bolton, the remaining Umbers knew that a parlay was inevitable if they didn't wish to go to war at a later date. This new avenue was a mystery that created further opportunities than a humble arrangement given by the Starks to prevent retaliation against them from the houses that now filed quickly back into the Stark's ranks. It was certain that the Umbers would suffer undo judgement for their brother's untimely and seemingly unwise act of treason, but that was better than being seen as a traitor and cut off from the provinces economic circle.

Petyr Baelish controlled the Vale, until the young Lord Robin of Arryn decided to relinquish said control (to which the Umbers nor Karstark were at all aware.) As it was, Baelish's motives were yet unclear why he'd summoned them all together. The side of Baelish's mouth lifted in a sly grin, "Lord Lamor, I am offering to help you, so that you do not need to prostrate yourselves on bended knee to plea forgiveness from a Stark for the choices your brother made. The Umbers are a proud people, and we both know that you and the Karstarks once controlled a formidable army, but as it is now, you are sorely outmatched by Wildling and Vale alike. What I can give you is an opportunity to make a bargain."

The younger of the two brothers stood as he rebutted snidely, "If our house is so easily swarmed than why risk losing allegiances siding with us now?"

Petyr regarded the man coolly remaining calmly detached as he addressed the question, "I'm not siding with you; I'm giving you the ability to set terms on your own standards over having the Starks dictate them to you. I will be a silent partner granting you access to a hostage that you can barter for a better outcome. I find having something or in this case someone to bring to the table gives way to negotiations in your favor."

The burly woman scowled indignantly, "How do we know this isn't some sort of trick to let our guard down? What's in it for you to help us anyway?"

Petyr's head tilted to the side as he brought both hands up to clasp uniformly in front of him in a relaxed state that gave off the impression that the conversation was a simple matter rather than a crucial ploy to undermine the newly reformed house that held the North, "If I wanted to trick you, you already are in the folds of this fortress surrounded by my army; I could have ended you without pomp or further inquiry to my person when you entered its gates, but that is not my intention. As for what's in it for me? We all need allies, Lady Matina, and where I'm not an enemy of the Starks, I have my concerns as to where their loyalties may fall in given circumstances I do not control. Friends do each other favors, and to do this for you I would hope that you would keep me in mind if I ever have need for you to return the favor. It's not wise to place all one's eggs into one basket."

Lord Lamor scoffed his irritation as he loomed forward confidently in a show that if he wished it, he could still become a formidable and deadly opponent within the confines of the relatively short distance between them. His voice was gruff as his eyes bore into the man in front of him, "So then let me get this straight, you're saying that you wish to set this whole event up just to line up some sort of future arrangement you don't even know that you'll have cause to use in the name of forming an alliance that depending on what you ask, we may or may not honor your request?"

Baelish nodded his smile never wavering, "Pacts are made in trust, and I have it on good authority that the Umbers may be a brutal house when crossed, they are also a house of their word. I would not ask any service of you that would go against the grain of what would benefit the both of us… much as I do now."

Lord Lamor studied Petyr's face a long moment before casually leaning back in his chair, "Even if we did bite, what's to say this hostage is going to be worth her weight when we go to offer a deal?"

"Him," Karstark cleared his throat as he corrected almost inaudibly, and all Umber eyes shifted over to him as his own gaze reverted back to Petyr nervously wishing for him to take the floor back.

Petyr shot back a knowing devious smile; this was one of the parts he was enjoying most about this transaction, "Yes, him. Ramsay Bolton to be exact."

The table was instantly hostile at the mention of Ramsay's name. Lord Lumor's voice rang above the rest of the disgusted outbursts as he slammed an agitated fist down on the table, "The Bolton bastard? What kind of value could that little shit hold to the Starks? I'm surprised they've not separated his head from his neck yet."

Petyr's brow lifted at the raucous gnashing of teeth created by his reveal as he enunciated, "You could simply kill him as retribution to avenge your brother's death. It is the Bolton boy's poor choices that lost your war that caused your brother's death and landed your house in this disarray. I would present him to you as a token of good will to do with as you like." He leveled his gaze, "But… if that isn't a satisfactory end, you can take him as a peace offering. Lady Stark has taken quite a shine to keeping the whelp as a pet. I've seen it with my own eyes; she's grown highly attached to him. If you take her doll, you can negotiate to have him returned unharmed… or… at least un-maimed to your advantage."

Lord Lamor was frowning deeply, "And what if we did decide to take your request to use Bolton's spawn as a proposition to keep peace and enforce that trade in the region is not interrupted. Once he's been returned to them, what's to keep the Starks from throwing out the deal?"

Petyr's smirk grew and a flicker of Machiavellian intent was clearly reflected in his expression as he continued, "If anything can be said about a Stark, it's that they keep their word to a fault. They will agree to your terms, and I assure you'll have no fear of reprisal on their end."

The younger brother's lips curled as his eyes shifted to take in Harald, "What about him? You haven't even got Ramsay Bolton in your possession, but you do have his second in command sitting at your table! Maybe we can just offer his treasonous head to mollify the Starks. It's not like he's contributing to this plan of yours. Maybe this Stark wench will want another plaything. He's on the small side like the Bolton runt…" he gave his sister a ruthless smile, "What do you think, Matina?"

Lady Matina let go of a humorless laugh her eyes taking in Harald's ever growing paler face, "Maybe if he was remotely attractive." Her gaze moved to Petyr, "Still, presenting his head might be worth less risk than the deed you'd have us entertain, Lord Baelish. He's already here in front of us as my brother Jareth has keenly observed."

Harald was looking rather mortified, stunned silent with his jaw slack and wide eyes looking worriedly over at Petyr who only answered in a bored fashion, "Lord Karstark was found by my men a day after the battle buried under a tomb of slain dead; I brought him here to recover under my protection. It would not be fitting to betray his trust and his house in that way. Besides, his lands border yours; surely that would not be wise on your part to alienate yourselves from further would-be allies would it? There are many men still willing to fight under his banners where any remaining Bolton fealty has been decimated at the loss of Lord Roose Bolton and the poor end to the war his son enticed. Ramsay Bolton is no more than a bastard of little consequence, but he means something to Lady Stark, and in that way, he can be a useful bargaining chip."

The Umbers shared a look with one another, and after a moment of silence, Lord Lamor stood announcing brusquely, "We will go to speak with the Starks as we originally planned to do. If we are unsatisfied with what comes of it, I will send word, and you can bring us this bargaining chip."

Harald let out an audible gasp of relief as Petyr stood leaning in to shake the eldest Umber's outstretched hand, "I have a feeling that I shall hear from you soon then, Lord Lamor."

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The next two days Sansa remained mostly within the confines of the carriage only stepping out on occasion to stretch her legs choosing to walk behind the convoy to make it apparent that she wished to be left alone. She did not speak to anyone until nearing the end of the second day where Brienne, growing concerned by her distant behavior, dismounted her horse to hand the reigns to Podrick intent on approaching Sansa to check on her personally. Brienne let the other members in their group trudge on until she fell in line beside her mistress, "My lady?" Brienne prodded gently, and when Sansa turned her eyes up to meet her gaze, Brienne saw clearly the bags under her eyes from the weariness Sansa carried. The knight grimaced but continued gently, "Are you alright, lady Sansa?"

Sansa stared forward her face trying to hide the emotion she was feeling, but Brienne easily saw through it to see that she was still troubled over the events that had transpired at the mill. After a moment of awkward silence where Brienne had started to think she would receive no response from Sansa did Sansa finally speak, "I don't know how to answer that question, lady Brienne; I am truly at a loss as to how I can be alright knowing what I do now." Her eyes grew glassy and her voice brittle, "You were right to feel as you do about what I've done, and now I've come to terms that I was not just partially wrong but fully so. Like that woman, I've used my own hurt to turn it on Ramsay, but I'm baser because I did it for the personal satisfaction of tearing him apart. What's worse is that in some ways I still want to do certain things to him even now after all that I've learned."

Brienne straightened as she offered, "If I may be so bold, my lady?" Sansa turned to finally look at her as she nodded her ascent for Brienne to continue. Brienne acknowledged Sansa's consent with a nod of her own, "You are nothing like that woman, and I mean that in the best of ways, my lady. It is true, what I saw and heard of you doing in those first days to Ramsay Bolton I would hope to never see come about again. With that in mind, Ramsay Bolton hurt you in a way that demanded some form of answer. The road you took many would see as a justified one because he had made you his victim, and you made him yours. Do not mistake that as being akin to his mother as you had reasoning behind your vengeance, she had a flawed heart. You came here with the intent of finding a way to help him, and as unpleasant as this journey was for you, I think it gave you what you sought."

Sansa let her words soak in before replying, "Help him… yes. Help him and myself to discover how best to understand him because I want more from him now than I originally did. I discovered a part of myself in that dungeon along the way that sexually excited me like I've never felt before… I want to do some of those things to him still… not in a way to hurt him with, but because it left me feeling emotionally intoxicated. With all that I have done to him already, I know that he'll not refuse me any desire I ask of him because he doesn't want to face my disapproval. Is it awful that that in itself excites me?"

"I cannot remark on what you wish to do to him… I'm… I'm unclear of such relations with a man, my lady." Brienne grew fully red in the face at this admission to speak so freely about craving to experience things of the nature Sansa hinted at with the opposite sex (although even as she'd never been with a man, Brienne did understand the want more than she cared to.)

For the first time in days, Sansa perked to see this innocence in her friend. It was something that she'd long since forgotten in the past year having been bounced from one terrifying potential sexual situation to another (even if she'd managed to keep her virginity intact up until Ramsay had become her husband.) The thought of losing her virginity to Ramsay followed by taking his virginity in her own way sent an electric thrill through her, and now it was Sansa's turn to blush as the two walked on in silence, but the silence was no longer dour but the comfortable sort that left one to their personal reflections while sharing space with another.

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The news that Jon relayed from Maester Medrick settled in Ramsay's gut with both a sense of elation to know that in five days' time or so Sansa would return to him and a dread that she would find out what had transpired only days before. Having heard the news, Jon seemed preoccupied in thought and had bid Ramsay a goodnight shortly after. Jon had terminated their evening drink not long after they had begun it having lost a taste for relaxing apparently, but he did give Ramsay permission to finish his drink before being brought back to the dungeon. Ramsay wasn't overly fond of returning to his bed just yet, but he was only a few sips away from finishing his drink, and for once, he didn't wish to inconvenience his guards that had been rather nice to him the majority of the day for the sheer benefit of keeping him entertained with their board game, pleasant conversations, and genuine friendly demeanor.

To be honest, Ramsay was ready to have a little alone time after the sudden news had interrupted the evening's quiet with rampant thoughts that now refused to be silent in his head. The outward silence gave way to restless brooding as he was locked down to his mattress by Cecil and Temeric to be left isolated for the night.

Sansa wasn't going to be happy to hear what he'd been up to Ramsay well knew, and only now did it colonize in his mind how much trouble he was likely going to be in if Jon went into any measure of detail with her on what he'd done. Unlike the miserable excuses for guards that had been appointed to him prior to Sansa's departure, this incident… both of them that had caused Jon to strap him… they were brought upon him solely by his own foolish actions. It only made it worse in the fact that it partially related back to what he'd been punished for by Sansa herself for letting his emotions override his judgement. It certainly wasn't going to help his case any when the person he'd attacked also happened to be her brother, Jon.

Would Jon tell her? The two had been getting on well the past couple days, and it wasn't like Jon to purposefully cause him grief. The man had went out of his way to make Ramsay more comfortable in the most uncomfortable of situations where he hadn't needed to. It was recognized and very much appreciated by Ramsay (especially his pride!) Perhaps if he remained on his best behavior the other man would do him a solid and would tell Sansa that nothing had happened while she was away. No… Ramsay knew better. Jon had already stated that he would not lie to her if she asked, and in that way, Ramsay knew he was doomed as Sansa wasn't likely not to be curious about what he'd been up to in her absence.

Ramsay was certainly feeling rather imprudent after the fact, but he doubted that would be sufficient regret when it came out in a telling of his horrendous behavior to her. For now he just wondered how she would take the news and desperately hoped it would be well enough to forgive him. He could take another punishment (even if he really didn't want to forego one praying that Sansa would find his suffering at Jon's hands to be satisfactory.) Ramsay could take pain, what worried him most was how she would regard him after what he'd done had come out. Would she still look at him the same way as she had when she had left him, or would that raw attraction melt away to be replaced by indifference? To Ramsay, the thought of her disinterest in him made him feel sick with anxiety; he'd feel her fury any day to her apathy.