Bump in the Road

Chapter Twenty-Four

Bumps in the Road

The next four days passed in a similar fashion for Ramsay where Temeric and Cecil would come to fetch him for breakfast with Jon. The first few days in Jon's company had started off stiff and quiet but as each day came and went, their conversation grew less strained. Ramsay found his anticipation for Sansa's return growing and as such, he would typically start the meal with asking Jon if he had heard word from crow or if any of the scouts had reported back from the direction she had departed. Ramsay's concern for Sansa was something that Jon easily shared, and Jon was quick to impart the status that he had yet to hear anymore of her whereabouts to him.

Jon had sent two capable riders to ride out a few miles from the keep the morning after Sansa's crow had arrived. The men were given orders that once Sansa had been spotted to split off where one would ride to Sansa to escort her back to the keep, and the other would ride back to inform Jon how soon to expect her arrival home. Both men were eager for Sansa's safe return, so it made for an easy start to their morning meal conversation between the two to speak about Sansa's homecoming which typically branched into (for Jon) mostly boring matters of court that Jon felt comfortable enough imparting to Ramsay. Part of Jon's duties these days consisted of settling farmer's land disputes over such things as wandering cows eating another's winter food stores or some other fashion of drudgery Jon really didn't want to deal with, but the news seemed to engage Ramsay well enough to give the two something light to talk about during their meals.

Ramsay listened to Jon raptly not because he really gave a damn about some peasant's cows getting into another peasant's grain stores, but the summary of goings on around the area was better than the nothingness of his days filled with much of the same bland activity within the dungeon and isolated from the majority of any other people. His life had become better than it was Ramsay realized, and where he may not have appreciated the small added privileges he was now granted before, having originally spent over a week mostly chained to a mattress or tied to the X cross that decorated the dungeon had changed his perspective considerably.

As Jon had offered to him earlier, Ramsay was awarded a morning walk each day. To keep hateful eyes from staring Ramsay down or anything more drastic, Ramsay was directed to take his walks inside the castle and along the keep's upper wall. Jon opted this course to keep Ramsay safe; the first uncomfortable walk the two had taken outside around the perimeter had shown there were many in his ranks that still regarded Ramsay with glares that echoed intent to maim or kill, and so Jon decided it best to remove any opportunity for altercations (either from someone with a grudge or Ramsay himself who seemed prone to fight if at all goaded.)

Jon attended Ramsay's side for these morning trysts when time permitted him to do so, and if not, Temeric and Cecil still accompanied Ramsay and would occasionally amuse him by sharing stories or jokes walking beside him rather than a few paces behind him as they were prone to do when Jon accompanied Ramsay. Much to Ramsay's surprise, these guards treated him less as a secured prisoner and more as an amiable acquaintance now. They didn't chain him down to his mattress in their presence anymore and instead let Ramsay wander about the small space of the dungeon freely where instances of mutually enjoyed moments between them were becoming more common as the days went by.

There easygoing attitude was a mark of trust that Ramsay took to heart especially on their walks about the castle in the early afternoons. Temeric and Cecil (with Jon's permission) had decided to start taking Ramsay to the kitchens to let him be given his lunch to eat it in the servant's dining hall rather than at the small table in his cell. The change in environment meant that Ramsay was exposed to more people in the keep (even if none of them seemed to acknowledge him and those that did notice him actively avoided Ramsay.) The ability to at least watch people milling about and interacting with one another cheered Ramsay's mood and left him feeling less dour and lonely. It wasn't as if he'd regularly made a habit to talk to any of them anyhow, so taking in their activities from afar was calming like that of observing fish swimming about in a glass bowl.

Previously Ramsay would have taunted the servants to get a reaction out of them for a bit of amusement, but Ramsay was quick to forego such sport in memory of how Temeric and Cecil had openly disapproved of him bullying the maid that had brought him clothes and shoes for his first outing with Jon. That same maid had once feared him, and since Jon had last thrashed him, she now made a point to give a knowing smirk in Ramsay's direction whenever the two were in the same room. Her audacity to mock his humiliation made the bile in his throat rise, but he held his tongue mostly to remain good spirited around Temeric and Cecil. For some reason that he couldn't fathom, he didn't want to cause problems for or disappoint these men; Ramsay chalked it up mainly to the fact that they were his jailers and keeping them happy meant that they treated him well. This wasn't the full truth though as Ramsay was starting to genuinely like these men even if their kindness towards granting him privileges was a huge factor in his fondness.

Ramsay much preferred Temeric and Cecil's company over the evening watch that never spoke to him other than very generic responses to his queries (no matter how he had tried to engage them in a similar dialogue that he found stimulated conversation with his day shift guards.) These guards were not cruel to him like the previous two guards that Ramsay was more than happy he rarely caught a glimpse of (although Ramsay made sure to give them a wide smile and a nod when he managed to catch them on the start of his morning walks as they went about changing posts on the wall shivering with furs draped about them plentifully. Apparently their new detail was that of the earliest and coldest morning hours as wall lookouts. Ramsay had satisfyingly mused their fate was quite fitting, and he took much joy in their suffering especially as they returned soured hate filled glares to his malicious grin.)

No, the evening shift was thankfully nothing like that of Reginald and Jove; but they were rather a boring lot. The only interactions between Ramsay and the night guards came when Ramsay needed to be released to use the privy or Jon had arrived for dinner where he would be unchained to dine in much the same fashion as they had for dinner every night since Jon had made it a habit to do so. Ramsay looked forward to these dinners followed by a relaxing night cap by the fire. He found himself increasingly enjoying Jon's camaraderie as Jon became more comfortable in his presence enjoying the fascinating tales of Jon's encounters with undead beyond the wall and past journeys with his Wildling and Crow allies alike. Ramsay refrained further comments on what he saw as Jon's less civil friends, the Wildlings, when a remark meant to be an offhanded joke was taken very poorly ending in an early departure from Jon and no wine by the hearth for Ramsay.

The event had left Ramsay stunned as he was once more locked down by the guards for the night without further comment or any form of displayed anger other than for Jon to rise with a look of disapproval, placing his napkin on the table, and announcing flatly that they were done for the night. The guards had moved forward then, and Ramsay had numbly watched Jon depart as he was pointed towards his mattress like a dog being thrown outside for traipsing mud on a clean floor. It had taken several harried hours of reflection on what exactly he'd done that had set Jon off to leave so abruptly, and once Ramsay had realized his mistake in referring to the Wildings as 'a well-trained feral rabble,' he immediately felt chagrinned.

At the start of the next morning, Ramsay was quietly led to the study. He had been brought to this room, only a hall's length from the dungeon, for the past four days. Jon had designated the small room as a quieted away location within the keep for them to meet each morning for breakfast holding a far warmer atmosphere than the cold and drab cell Ramsay was restricted to for the majority of his day outside his brief morning walkabout and his afternoon lunch in the servant's dining quarters.

Ramsay was relieved Jon wasn't angry enough to forego breakfast with him entirely as he'd feared Jon might for his rude comment at dinner the night prior. Before Jon could address Ramsay with more than a nod of acknowledgement to his arrival, Ramsay opened with an immediate apology, "I'm… I'm sorry about last night. It was wrong of me to refer to your Wildling friends in that manner." Ramsay chuckled tensely, "I… don't really know anything of Wildlings outside of the stories I've been told from others and yourself; they have always been seen as a savage people that we killed on sight for invading our lands," seeing Jon's brow drawing down in agitation, Ramsay quickly added, "…but it was a mark of prejudice to assume they are all a barbaric lot. Forgive my misguided beliefs."

Ramsay should have been well aware by now though that the Wildlings that accompanied Jon were his allies, so the mean spirited remark had annoyed him. It hadn't helped that he'd had a particularly grueling day going back and forth with members of noble houses earlier that day wanting to know what he planned to do if the sighted ships from across the sea were in fact heading north to challenge them. Jon sighed taking in that Ramsay did at least wear the countenance of regret for his bigoted opinion (even if his apology was still tainted in narrow-mindedness.) Jon couldn't really blame Ramsay for that opinion as many of his Northern brethren had held similar views prior to the war, and Jon had met with enough disputes then and occasionally even now because of said bigotry.

It was an honest attempt to apologize, so it would have to be enough. Jon nodded, "Apology accepted, Ramsay. In the future please do refrain from passing quick judgement on those you have no bearing to evaluate," as he spoke, Jon gestured for Ramsay to take his seat. A visible weight was lifted from Ramsay's posture as he followed the motion to sit looking immediately relieved by Jon's invitation and acceptance of his apology. Jon continued to chide him though having felt not only the irritation of Ramsay's words but many disgruntled opinions lobbed at him over the passing days from others (nobles, soldiers, and Wildlings alike) that saw Ramsay walking freely from the dungeon as an affront to the war where their kin had perished violently in. Jon had done his best to assure that Ramsay would be working to repay his debt to those he'd wronged at Sansa's behest once the lady of the house returned. It was enough to send those that were unhappy with the situation away, but there were still many mutterings that moved under breaths that Jon had to let lay unheeded in hopes that the people's anger with Ramsay would begin to tone down once Ramsay had begun working on the list Sansa had pushed him to create.

Time would tell, but if Ramsay spouted off to the wrong person in the manner he'd done to Jon last night, it could cause an even greater wave of unrest in those that followed House Stark. For this, Jon felt a need to drive his point home to Ramsay, and his voice took on a more harsh timber than normal as he clipped staring his seriousness across the table at Ramsay who now sat stiffly with squared shoulders and hands folded in his lap as if her were a soldier standing at attention, "The Wildlings fought with me not only here to take back the North but on the other side of the wall. They're good, honorable people that have my back, and for being a feral rabble as you put it, they have acted more civilly than you ever demonstrated. I was initially upset by your words, but I was not evoked to respond, Ramsay. Others might truly take offense, and if that happens, you will bring problems not only down on your head but on mine and Sansa's for harboring you from the justice many wish to see you served. Your actions and words reflect our choice to keep your head on your shoulders, so it would be in your best interest and ours to consider your words and actions very carefully. You must always be mindful of how your words and deeds affect this house."

As the scolding continued, Ramsay's face fell and by the point Jon was finished speaking, he was slouching with folded arms wearing a deep tight-lipped frown. This conversation was beginning to sound like many he'd had with his father. It rang with the nostalgia of the same brow beating sensation Ramsay had often felt on numerous occasions where he was told what he should and should not do. Just as when he'd had these conversations with his father, Ramsay remained sullen, fuming quietly to himself but not daring to protest. There was nothing to be added that he was sure wouldn't get shot down or lead to more admonishment, so Ramsay did the next best thing which was to avoid any further discussion and let the topic blow over in the grace of stretching silence.

So it was that the two returned to that stiff and rigid dining experience they had shared in the beginning of their relationship where both men ate without speaking. Jon surprised Ramsay though as they both finished and rose from the table and Jon conveyed that he was free to join Ramsay for his walk. After this scolding and the obvious social blunder on his part, Ramsay had half expected the remainder of their time together, before Sansa's return, would be spent much like the first couple days where Jon had disciplined him, but it seemed that Jon was already ready to move on and show Ramsay that the matter was put behind them.

The incident had kept Ramsay's mind racing for half the night preceding he and Jon's breakfast; Ramsay knew he would have little time to make things right with Jon before having to face Sansa with his newest list of transgressions that she was more than sure to learn of quickly enough. The thought of Jon giving Sansa a bad report on top of his already to be seen poor actions had filled Ramsay with enough dread that he'd sworn he felt ghost pains of the strapping he'd endured twice over since the one that she'd delivered him before leaving on her journey.

The actual pain had faded; what had not faded was the embarrassing reminder as Ramsay had had to learn to cope with his stinging pride when moving in a given way in his chair, and the remnant chaffing from the fading rash of bruises on his backside that gave him a lack to find any comfortability sitting for those first few days after the fact. It was a firm statement of his unacceptable behavior being intolerable and how as a result he'd found himself bare assed and well-disciplined. This was a sad fact of his new reality, and as loathe as Ramsay was to endure it, he was more adverse now to have to repeat it in any degree!

The revelation that Jon had already seemingly forgiven him his latest lapse of etiquette eased the tension that had been building within Ramsay since the point he'd known he'd said something wrong to Jon. Sansa was due to return any time now, if her missive's arrival stated anything of the time it took her to reach her destination and return. The more upset Jon was with him upon her arrival home would be a direct correlation to how angry Sansa would in turn be with him. To see Jon seemed mostly unruffled by the event enough to be ready to drop it easily enough boded well for Ramsay and gave him an overall wave of relief that he may yet still be capable of explaining himself out of further punishment (or at least a much lighter one!)

The two donned their coats filing out of the room and down the hall towards the north-side entrance to the wall's perimeter. There was a point at every end of the castle to move across the expanse of the wall, but it didn't go around fully leaving a need to enter the keep to continue around to the next facing wall at each corner. The break in the wall lent for a small escape from the frigid winds that whipped against the men as they walked the narrow cobbled stone ledges.

They had moved into the second crossing, and as they continued on, Jon gravely remarked on the wounded soldiers that were set up now in makeshift cots in the banquet hall and how many had now perished due to the harsh weather and the grievous injuries they'd borne. Ramsay had been trailing a few feet behind Jon quietly taking in his words with head bowed as his ears focused on the distress in the other man's voice. Ramsay wondered why Jon was telling him this; Ramsay had to ponder now if by relaying this macabre news Jon meant for him to feel some sort of guilt for these men. The thought of such an expectation was laughable. How could he? Ramsay didn't care about those men; they had been his enemy, they had challenged his authority and position as warden of the North, so why should he care if they died screaming into the night or quietly in their sleep? Jon's intonation made Ramsay feel that he should care which caused Ramsay an inner wrenching of what? …shame? No… Ramsay couldn't put his finger on it, but it made him feel uneasy and out of his element. He didn't like questioning himself and his actions especially his feelings, but here he was again riding this same horse that the Starks continuously made him ride.

Ramsay had been contemplating all the implications of his warring emotions to Jon's statements when he'd realized that Jon had stopped speaking. Curious, Ramsay brought his gaze up to see Jon staring out at the horizon, and his own eyes drifted over following suit to catch what had caused Jon to pause. His heart lifted to see one of the two horsemen Jon had mentioned were to race back and tell of Sansa's arrival, but that unexpected joy quickly dissipated as Ramsay then took note of the second horsemen not far behind the first. The pause ensued as all eyes now probed the field still covered in morning fog that obscured any clear sight. They squinted leaning on the castle's ledge to register the meaning behind what they were taking in. "Wait… isn't there only supposed to be one of your riders returning?" Ramsay slowly questioned worry lacing his speech, but his concern quickly escalated to alarm as the thunderous sound of hooves beating reached his ears and many more men on horseback crested the hilltop carrying red flags bearing the motif of four chains linked in the middle by a central ring, the banner was readily known as belonging to house Umber.

Jon's jaw tightened as he turned briskly on his heel only stopping his stride long enough to hurriedly address Ramsay, "Go back to the dungeon with the guard and await my return." Jon only gave Ramsay a firm look that spoke not to disobey as he barreled forward with purpose across the length of the wall and into the keep.

Ramsay had gone slack jawed as Jon's words hit him and an overwhelming need to join Jon in this crusade rose through him. Ramsay roared back indignantly once he'd processed the command, "Wait… what? No! I'll not stand idly by awaiting an answer on Sansa's wellbeing!" As Ramsay yelled this to Jon's retreating back, he raced to follow after him, but Cecil and Temeric closed the gap stepping in front of Ramsay and restraining him from following Jon further. Ramsay's eyes whipped between the two men wildly, "Let me go! I know these people better than you, better than Jon! They're ruthless, and they shouldn't be trusted!"

Temeric sighed giving Cecil a look that spoke to the effect that he was surprised if anyone was to say as much about the Umbers that it would be, Ramsay, their formal alley, "Alright, alright," Temeric held up a placating hand doing his best to calm Ramsay as the smaller man doggedly sought to push forward and through his guards. Temeric huffed as he hooked his arm more tightly around Ramsay's bicep, "I get your concern, but Lord Stark commanded that you return to the dungeon and wait on him, and if you aren't going to go willingly, you're going to force us to make you, Ramsay.

Cecil chimed in imploringly, "Please don't put yourself in a bad situation again; you know if you don't follow the instructions given, it's not going to turn out well for you when this is all said and done… you do know that don't you?"

Cecil's words only seemed to enrage Ramsay more, but unlike previously, Ramsay didn't bite back with cruel snide remarks or resist the guards' further attempts to subdue him. Ramsay merely stiffened clenching his fists as he turned to stare out once more at the emerging cavalry army amassing through the fog with foot soldiers running in behind them. Ramsay was doing his best to make out anyone he may recognize, but it was to no avail as he didn't recognize any of the men he'd seen at Smalljon Umber's side when the men had met to strategize fighting Jon and his Wildling army originally.

Temeric and Cecil were on the verge of physically hauling Ramsay back to his cell when Ramsay growled out in exasperation finally taking in the expressions that the two men were losing patience with his failure to comply with Jon's orders, "Fine. Take me back then!" Temeric and Cecil shared a relieved glance before slowly releasing him and allowing Ramsay to willingly be guided back to the dungeon.

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As the days went by, Brienne's words had given Sansa much to consider both before and after the eventful confrontation with Ramsay's mother. The Lady from the Sapphire Isles had assured her that the fears she had held about her feelings towards Ramsay were in fact not the same as the way Ramsay's mother had seemingly regarded him. It was no secret that Sansa had once hated Ramsay… only weeks prior in fact, and this anomaly created even more self-reflection on Sansa's part.

An epiphany had struck Sansa in her contemplations that she had truly let herself forgive Ramsay; she had already forgiven him to some degree when she'd seen him break into tears at the prospect of her ready to take him again yet still willingly ready to comply physically to her demand of him even though mentally she could tell he was in agony. She had seen his reaction as a curiosity then that caused something inside of her to seize to a halt as Sansa truly identified what in its entirety that she had done to Ramsay. She had done this, created a break in his psyche where she could have raped him with abandon heedless of his misery. Ramsay would have done so with her, and he would have taken great joy in it. If she'd been mentally weaker, Ramsay could have broken her spirit as he'd done to Theon. But, Ramsay hadn't broken her, no, she'd broken him.

She hadn't taken him that day even though the carnal beast that shadowed her desires, the wolf within, saw Ramsay's tears as an inviting weakness to tear in to. She had wanted to see his face streaked with those lovely tears, Ramsay's beautiful ice blue eyes spilling regret and staring pitifully at her. Sansa had put him on his back specifically to drink in the lovely expressions she'd encountered since the morning she'd seen him look up at her, folded in on himself, soiled from the abuse of multiple men, and shivering in the waters that had long since went cold.

It felt wrong to want to see the vulnerability she'd witnessed then in his eyes when she's put herself inside him. Sansa still imagined how he would have gasped at her invasion that day, and in the darkest part of the night when no one could see her, Sansa pleasured herself imagining that she in fact hadn't stopped. It was a fantasy, and even though she knew that she could not hurt him like this now, the fever within her wanted to claim him as she knew she could. The heady thoughts of holding him down and taking from him, feeling Ramsay's muscles tensing under her as she heedlessly pushed inside of him had Sansa teaming with unbridled desire as she fervently stroked her finger over her swelling clit.

Sansa orgasmed then, and she orgasmed many times over in the nights that followed to the remembered feeling of pushing her glass cock in and out of Ramsay. Her mind locked now on how Ramsay's own body had internally resisted her ministrations causing the bulb of the glass cock inside her to feel his every twitch and clench. The pressure against her labia built as she moved inside of him; it was an ecstasy that was beyond imaginable to her before she'd experienced it, and now that she had, she couldn't help the vivid fantasies that followed. Sansa was swollen with fleeting thoughts of taking Ramsay where she covered his whimpers with her hungry mouth and his tears were kissed away all the while as she continued to take from him as vehemently as she had that first time.

This was a lucid and pleasant fantasy that had carried on until she'd came and fallen to sleep only to invade her semiconscious mind as a dream in the wee hours of the morning. It hadn't taken long for these inspirations to truly take hold of Sansa's aching and budding libido to eventually crest her over the edge with a forceful scream. Sansa's eyes snapped open, and she gasped in shock clasping a hand over her involuntary cry in an attempt to muffle the noise that had long since escaped. The shout felt incredibly loud in her own ears, and her eyes widened in imagined horror that someone would have heard her keen and come to her carriage to investigate. Excruciatingly long minutes ticked by, and Sansa's now very sensitive hearing only picked up the casual murmuring of some of the soldiers carrying on by the fire. There were no footfalls heading in her direction; Sansa let go of her held breath as her body unraveled from the rigid stance she'd balled into created by her startled awakening.

Her mind drifted back to the happy carousing heard by the fire pit. The soldiers that had accompanied Sansa all seemed in good spirits now knowing that by some time tomorrow morning their trek across the frozen expanse of the Northern territories would be at an end, and all would be able to rest their weary bodies in front of the keep's main hall's hearth and drink to the accomplishment of completing the journey they'd set forth to endure. Sansa was more than ready to be home again, and although at points throughout this adventure she'd wished more than anything that she'd never left the keep, when all was said and done, she couldn't honestly say that it wasn't worth all that she had gone through. These thoughts calmed her as Sansa realized that her secret pleasuring of herself and the unintentional moan she'd let loose had in fact not been detected and assumed to be some sort of attack on her, Sansa let out a sigh of relief able to drift back to sleep with the comforting thought that she would be home very soon now.

The pleasant thoughts that Sansa had fallen asleep to were blissfully shattered to the sudden rousing she'd encountered when the carriage abruptly stopped almost causing her to roll from the carriage's bench. Having been jerked awake, it took a few moments for Sansa to register that the soldiers were barking in warning. She stumbled wearily to her feet making her way to the door and quickly stepping outside into the drifts of snow to wade over to what seemed to be creating such a commotion. By what she saw, Sansa grasped rapidly that they had converged with the King's Road, normally that would have been cause for excitement because it meant that they were scant hours from reaching Winterfell.

The King's Road was one of the most traveled roads in all of Westeros it was true, but the enormity that enveloped Sansa as she took in the wide spread tread of the many feet and horse hooves heading in the direction of her home created the sensation within her that she'd just had a bucket of icy water thrown over her head. The implications could not be ignored, this was no small party but an army heading towards her home. Her heart was in her throat as the worse thoughts that Sansa didn't want to contemplate but couldn't help but to overwhelmed her; she was terrified, terrified for those she cared for, terrified for the home she'd sacrificed so much to reclaim, terrified of losing everything and everyone she cared about.

Sansa said nothing as she moved deftly over to one of the horses she knew was swift and dependable mounting it and spurring the horse to the front of the gawking men that still were arguing about what tactics they could possibly employ to face an army. Their voices quieted as her horse snorted its impatience seemingly on Sansa's behalf; the mare pawed anxiously at the ground sensing the adrenaline pulsing through its human companions immediately putting the beast on edge. A few of the men suggested that the best course of action would be to hide and wait for the army to pass by before returning to the keep to which Sansa straightened regarding the soldiers with a cold glare as she spoke matter-of-factly, "We can't take on an army, but I'm not about to lie in the snow drifts waiting like a damsel in distress for these people to slaughter us. Drop what will weigh your horses down within the carriage, we will move it in to the wood line and come back for it. Right now we ride for Winterfell, and we do not stop until we are home."

Tormund chuckled in the gleeful manner he was known for as he rode up beside Sansa with a hearty nod giving her a wide smile, "Now that's the Stark attitude I've grown so damn fond of. Come on then, let's ride, I'm not about to let my folk have a fight I'm not a part of!"

Davos, Podrick, Brienne and a few men that Sansa did not personally know were the first to join Tormund and her as Sansa nodded to the rest of the men that still seemed a bit bewildered by the sudden change, "Ride as fast as you can to catch up to us once you've hidden the carriage and unburdened your horses. We will regroup in the Wolf's Wood by the well at Cater's farm." Without further word, Sansa turned her horse and barreled off down the well-worn road with those readily capable of keeping up trailing swiftly behind her.

The farm was one of the biggest in the area and only a few miles west of the King's Road and the keep. It was at least a two hour ride Sansa knew, and it would have to be enough time to consider what their next move would be. There was no way that the twelve men in the totality of their party (no matter how good they were) could take on an army. Sansa desperately hoped they wouldn't have to.