Don't say anything. I've been updating this entire time.
-LB
♕
A GIRL WITH NO NAME AWOKE TO A SMALL HAND TOUCHING HER ARM.
The Girl had been there for nearly two weeks now and her wounds were healing quite nicely. Lady Crane and Jeyne had been accommodating and careful with her.
Although, her favorite person in the quaint household was Jeyne's little boy. He couldn't talk much, as most of his sentences ended with babbling, but he was the sweetest child she'd ever met. On days where the home was quiet and Jeyne had nothing to do while Lady Crane is away, they'd come in and sit with her.
The Girl with No Name remembered falling asleep after taking a dose of medicine that was left on her table side. She remembered being alone, so Jeyne must have come home from their daily walk.
As the Girl's eyes adjusted, she found the little boy making a grab for her bracelet on the nightstand.
"No, don't touch that!" The Girl made a quick motion to grab the bracelet, resulting in her pulling on her wound. She winced, letting out a groan and falling back onto the pillow.
The little boy jumped, tearing up as a small whimper left his lips.
The Girl closed her eyes in pain, and partially because she didn't want to see the boy cry. She hadn't meant to yell at him or scare him, only to protect him. She was told a long time ago that no one outside of those she trusted, mainly her family, could touch the bracelet.
"What's happening in here?" Jeyne asks as she walks into the room. Her little boy ran to her, clutching onto her leg. "I'm sorry if he woke you up. I turned my back for a moment."
"No" the Girl says breathlessly, eyes still closed. "No, it's okay. I'm sorry for scaring him. I didn't mean to."
"He didn't break anything I hope? He's always been a bit too curious for his own good."
Once the pain has subsided, the Girl opens her eyes. She looks over to the night stand, only too see the bracelet missing. She sat up, slowly this time, and looked over the bed. The red jewel emitted a soft pulsing glow on the hardwood floor, almost as if it were alive.
Before the Girl could reach over for it, Jeyne had approached. "Here, let me. You're in no condition to moving like that."
The Girl wasn't able to get a single word out before Jeyne took the bracelet in her hand. The Girl had seen others touch the bracelet and instantly convulse on the ground, foaming at the mouth until they stopped breathing. Her brothers and sister, her immediate family, had touched it without a problem.
So how is it that Jeyne had picked it up from the ground and remained standing? How is she still breathing?
"It doesn't look scratched or anything. I apologize for my son's knack for getting into things he shouldn't. He takes after his father in that aspect."
A crestfallen look appeared on her face at the mention of the child's father. It's clear that she's grieving and probably will continue for a long time, especially with the young child on her hip to remind her of her partner.
Still, the Girl took the bracelet from her outstretched hand, mouth slightly parted in confusion.
"Who is his father?"
Jeyne immediately tensed and stepped back, "I don't think you've earned that. I still have no clue who you are or where you came from."
That's fair.
"This bracelet was given to me by someone very close to me. Her name is Marina."
Jeyne's body, if it were possible, tensed even more. The Girl notices, coming to the conclusion that she had clearly heard the name before.
"She told me that no one outside of family can touch this unless allowed. Those that have tried died as soon as they touched it. And yet you picked it up and you're still standing with breath in your lungs."
The bracelet suddenly felt heavy in her hands as her mind raced with possibilities. "I've never met you before. You said yourself that you are from the South. And yet you still picked it up."
"Surely touching a bracelet wouldn't kill a person." Jeyne mutters, licking her dry lips. Her son babbles on in her ear, teething on his finger.
"I was taught to long ago to trust my gut, and right now my gut is telling me that you know something." The Girl says. "What was your partner's name?"
"You're Arya Stark" Jeyne mumbles, completely shocked. "He talked about you so much. I can't believe I've met you."
A loud bang sounded outside the room, startling the two women. The little boy in Jeyne's arms whimpered. Arya could make out a shadow quickly moving around in the room, making her blood run cold.
"Jeyne, listen to me very carefully" Arya whispers, moving the covers from her legs. "You and your son need to hide, now. Only come out after we've left. Do you understand?"
Although she didn't understand why Arya whispered, Jeyne did the same. "What are you doing? You shouldn't be moving with your wounds."
But Arya was beyond taking her words of advice. She'd already began pulling on her shoes, wincing as she bent to tie the laces. "You have to hide. Take this and don't come back until we've cut the corner."
Jeyne barely noticed Arya slip the bracelet into her hand as she stood on her shaky legs. The older woman had to shake her head to gather her thoughts.
"Who is we?" Jeyne asks quickly, "and why must I hide? Lady Crane might have dropped something in the kitchen. I'll go look—"
"If you go in there you and your son will die!" Arya could barely keep her voice in a whisper. Another loud crash came from the kitchen area. "Hurry up and hide! Don't come out until we've left."
Jeyne listened this time and held her son closer to her chest, moving towards the closet in the corner of the room. It is a tight squeeze, but they made it work.
Arya slowly moves out of the room, trying desperately to keep her breathing under control. When she comes around the corner, she nearly throws up the little food she'd managed to keep down.
Lady Crane's body has been folded and impaled with a wooden stool. Her normally rosy skin is pale as the blood steadily seeps out of her multiple wounds on her stomach and chest. Her eyes are wide open and frozen in fear, forever in a state of panic and shock.
"If you'd have done as you were supposed to then she would have had a less painful death." Waif says, catching Arya's attention as she stopped beside the body. "The Many-Faced God requires a life, a name, and you've failed."
Arya's eyes caught the small dagger in Waif's hand, and her breathing hitched in her throat. Waif began a slow walk towards Arya, to which the Stark girl began moving back.
"You and I both know that he must always receive what he wants" Waif continues with an air of indifference. "No one can change that. Especially not you who thinks she can parade about like a silly little girl with a family that is not hers."
Arya's mind immediately thought of Jeyne and her son, both confined in the safety of the closet. Until she figured out their connection, Arya has to protect them.
"You can't" Waif replies, as if she heard the Girl's thoughts. "You can't save anyone from him. Not when he's been promised yet another name."
Waif's face morphed into a sinister smirk, one only reserved for her prey; now directed solely at Arya. The cold glint of evil gave Arya the strength to run towards the balcony. Throwing herself over the edge and, briefly, away from the cold hands of death.
♕
Sansa Stark's cheeks burned from the bitter cold. Her limbs have long since numbed, but she couldn't care any less at this point. Her white stallion huffs beneath her, clearly impatient. Ramsey is late, but Sansa is sure it's a psychological tactic for suspense. He loves suspense. He loves to keep people guessing, only to hit them at just the right moment—when you least expect it.
He'd done it enough to Sansa during their marriage.
All too soon, Ramsey and his entourage closed in. The smirk on his face sent a tremor through Sansa's body, a tremor the bitter wind could never evoke from her. It's the same smirk he gave her whenever she begged him to leave her be, or simply as him to kill her. He'd tenderly caress her face and his eyes would soften right before he reminded her of her worth as a Stark born. He'd remind her of the rules of his game, one she never won, and tell her she lost. She always lost and it always hurt.
"Sansa, my darling wife, you look as beautiful as ever" Ramsey says, never removing his smirk. "I hope your bastard brother and his wild friends are treating you well?"
"Far better than you ever did."
Ramsey let out a chuckle, waving his hand dismissively. "Nonsense! I'd say I treated you the way you deserved. As I seem to recall, you asked to play our fun little games."
If "asked" he meant forced, then he'd be correct. Sansa could remember a particular memory where he told her that if she didn't play his game he'd hurt her worse. She had to chose between two evils and she chose the lesser.
"Ramsey—" Jon begins, trying to pull the Bolton's attention away from his sister. It worked.
"It's Lord Bolton to you, bastard" He says, aiming his bone-chilling smirk at Jon instead. "I was anointed just before my father untimely death. It's unfortunate that I can't say the same about you."
With practiced indifference, Jon barely blinked at the insult. Ramsey's eyes narrowed, but only for a moment, so fast that no one could have noticed—except for Sansa. "How do we know that you have our brother?"
Ramsey motioned his hand and one of his men opened his satchel, taking out Shaggydog's head and tossing it between the two parties. Jon went rigid, something that Ramsey notices. The smirk grew as he reached into his own pocket and pulled out a thin chain. Hanging from it was an old ring, one the Stark siblings knew to be Rickon's ring that Marina had given him.
"The young lad put up quite a fight for this thing." Ramsey begins. "Said it was from your late mother. I offer my condolences on such a tragic mishap."
His men chuckled, following their leader carelessly at the Stark's expense.
"I'm sorry my dearest Sansa. It's your late mother, isn't it? This bastard has no tie to you besides your equally late father. Tragic really."
Sansa stole a glance at Jon, only to find him silently seething atop his horse. He's doing exactly what Ramsey wants him to do. The Bolton Bastard thrives off of another's pain and anguish, from situations he puts people in. She learned that no matter the consequence, you can't do what he wants—and their had indeed been consequences.
"One of my men pulled it off when the lad fell asleep, and one of the craziest things happened—the man started bleeding from everywhere!" He says in glee, looking around him at his men as if they should also be happy.
"Then perhaps you should do us a favor and put it on yourself" Sansa says pointedly. Ramsey's eyes only slithered over to her, the smirk gone and replaced by anger.
"Now now, wife of mine. That's no way to talk to your Lord husband is it? I'd hate for our reunion later to be an unhappy one."
"There shouldn't have to be a later, Ramsey" Jon spoke, noticing him narrow his eyes into slits. "We could settle this right now, just you and I."
"And for what, Bastard? I've heard of your feats and swordsmanship just as I'm sure you heard of what happens to those who anger me." He looks right back at Sansa as he said the last part. "One on one has never been fun for me. I always like to have my men with me."
Oblivious to what he'd actually meant, Jon continues, missing the way his sister finally looked away. Ramsey notifies and leans forward on his horse with a new sparkle in his eyes.
"Besides, I have 6,000 men. You have what? Half that? Probably not even half, am I right?" Ramsey says. "And I've heard from your brother's friend that you have someone else on your side as well."
"Aye, you have the numbers, but would your army want to fight for you if they knew you wouldn't fight for them?"
"You have way with words, Bastard, but my men follow orders because they are loyal to me." Ramsey doesn't miss a beat. "Like if I ordered them to kill your little brother for insulting your Lord. They'd do it without blinking."
"And she'd have you on your knees before you could open your mouth." Sansa snaps.
"She?" Ramsey asks with raised eyebrows. "So this weapon of yours is a person? And a woman at that?" He scoffs, leading his men to, once again, chuckle.
"You're going to die, Ramsey. I can promise you that. So, sleep well."