She Wolf • |Book 2|

• Chapter One •

It all felt familiar, yet unfamiliar at the same time. Winterfell looked nothing like it had once before, nothing at all like the home to the Starks she had long since then found herself wishing with all her heart to return to. And now she had returned, as Lady Stark but no longer the Lady of Winterfell.

Winterfell was now home to a new house, House Bolton, curtsy of Tywin Lannister as a reward for killing the last Lord of Winterfell, her husband. Passing through the gates now made her stomach turn and her throat fill with bile. She wanted nothing more than to slide from her horse and vomit right then and there but she didn't. She kept in the saddle, at Roose Bolton's side, as they rode in. She kept a stoic expression on her face at all times.

Even as she looked around at men that bore the Bolton sigil and flew the Bolton banners she could only see the direwolf sigil of house Stark. She remembered the men of the Starks and the yard filled with happy servants and working men. Horses whinnying, chickens clucked, and Winterfell felt warm and alive. It felt nothing like that now.

"You grace," Roose Bolton's voice carried up to her, disrupting her thoughts of the old Winterfell and tearing her attention away. She peered down at him, her cold gaze then falling upon his son, the bastard that now bore his name, Ramsay. "My son, Ramsay Bolton."

"An honor to meet you, your grace," the bastard said when she dismounted from her horse. He had moved to approach her but his father stopped him, placing a hand on his chest.

Ramsay looked at his father and then the hand on his chest. She caught the muscle twitching and noticed his jaw clenching, and in his eyes, something dangerous swam. But like that, it disappeared the moment he looked at her.

"I heard you were born a Snow," Rhaella's words seemed to have shocked the yard into silence, not even the horses moved. She smiled a cold, reserved smile that appeared warm on the outside. "You must have done your father a great honor to have been granted the privilege of bearing his last name. I must congratulate you, Ramsay Bolton."

"I am at a loss for words, your grace," he said to her.

"I imagine that must be a first for you," she removed the leather gloves that covered her hands and allowed the cold to kiss her warm fingers. "I must admit, now I am the honored one."

Roose turned from Rhaella to his son and then back to her, "You once came to Winterfell some time ago," Roose said, "I imagine you had your own rooms, would you like to lodge in those very same rooms? Even if they are currently occupied, we can easily make it to where they are not."

"Touched," she said softly, "but I do not desire my old rooms. If you don't mind, I'd like to have a look around, perhaps visit different chambers until I find one to my liking." she turned toward Ramsay, a smile curving part of her mouth, "Perhaps you can escort me."

Ramsay beamed proudly as his father looked at him, his face impassive yet she could see that Roose was warning Ramsay with his eyes. As to what, Rhaella couldn't tell. It could have easily been a warning for Ramsay to be on his best behavior or to be careful, either way, she did not care.

"Come, Reek," Ramsay called to a man that Rhaella had completely missed. He cowered behind Ramsay, his face tilted downward, dirtied and hair covering his eyes. "This is Reek," he said to Rhaella when he saw her looking at him. "Reek, where are your manners? It that an appropriate way to greet the Queen of the North?"

"I'm no queen," Rhaella said softly, "Just Rhaella Stark, and that is all I will ever be."

"That's right," Ramsay had a spirit wilder than Arya Stark Rhaella noted. One that could never be broken. "Reek, you remember Robb Stark, Lady Stark's husband, right?"

Reek, or more so, Theon Greyjoy, as Rhaella soon realized, lifted his head a little but kept his eyes lowered refusing to look at her. She took it upon herself to step closer to the cowering Greyjoy, a boy clearly tortured by his captive, and cupped his face firmly between her hand and forced him to look at her.

He struggled against her grip, trying to with all his strength to pull free so that he could cower back away and continue staring at the ground.

"Look at me," she commanded in a sharp tone. He still did not look.

"Go ahead, Reek," came Ramsay's enthusiastic tone from over her shoulder, "look at Lady Stark. Show her your face."

His eyes slowly traveled up her face, stopping only when they met her cold blue eyes. She stared into his for some time until finally, she released his face and turned around to look at Ramsay, a smile curving her lips, "Shall we?"

"We shall, my lady," he smiled back, his arm held out for her to take.

Rhaella linked her arm with his and allowed the bastard to guide her through a place she had once known. He led her into one of the few buildings that had not been torn down or badly scorched in the fires that destroyed Winterfell. This part of the keep had been where the Starks had once slept, where Jon Snow and Robb Stark slept.

"I presume you would be most interested in you late husband's chambers, am I correct?"

"Indeed," she smiled and looked up at him, "but something tells me that is where you reside."

He stopped her and leaned in, a sinister smile twisting his lips, "I think I like you, Lady Stark," he said to her.

"You and half the men in Westeros," she replied, leaning in even closer. "But you are by far the most interesting one I have ever met."

Ramsay seemed both surprised and pleased by her comment, "Am I?"

"Mhm," she replied, pulling away from him to continue down the corridor. "even king Joffrey seemed dull compared to you."

"The king is dead."

Rhaella stopped completely and turned around to face him, "When?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowed. Why was this just now reaching her?

"Months ago," he replied, walking toward her. "poisoned at his own wedding. They say his uncle, the Imp, did it. He and his wife, your sister-by-law."

Tears filled her eyes as she burst out into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, puzzling Ramsay, "Sansa and Tyrion?" she cried, wiping her eyes as she tried so hard to control her laughter. "K-k-killed Joffrey?"

Ramsay turned toward Theon and then back to her, nodding his head. Through the tears she noticed him narrowing his eyes at her. "Why is this funny to you?"

"Because neither of those two are capable of killing Joffrey. Tyrion, yes, but by poison? Most certainly not." she wiped at her eyes and stepped away. "I'll take the bastard's old chamber. If it isn't empty, empty it and have my things sent up to it. Oh," she turned back around to face Ramsay, "Thank you for that, I needed a good laugh."

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And we are back!

Wouldn't it be fun if Rhaella's mother was really still alive but faked her own death and actually went beyond the wall and met Jon Snow?
I literally just thought of this.