winter takes the wolf.

It’s a strange kind of rebirth being granted freedom from a situation that you once thought there would be no end to. Sure enough, Ramsay would likely have had to have married her off eventually., but it would have likely have been into the same situation over and over.

Family is a strange concept to Roselyn it always has been. She understands house loyalty and the concept of blood, but she’s never known the love of family in the same way that is so clear on Sansa’s face as she searches for her brother.

She stays as close to Sansa as she can, even as Theon arrives at her side to help Rose off her horse. 

She attempts to take a step forward but it proves too painful so she leaned on the other for the moment.

Of all the things Theon Greyjoy was expecting to find at Castle Black the concept of a warm welcome was most certainly not on the list. How could there be with everything that had gone before? Jon and Theon were not close as children. Too alike for their own good, Ned Stark used to say and it was likely that the old Jon would have met him with a cold shoulder should he have ever gone to him for help.

Now, however, Theon was also a traitor to his family and despite everything that Sansa promised, no matter how much she wanted to make things ok. She couldn’t and that was simply something Theon would have to deal with.

He looks for Jon the moment that they entered the gates. It had been years and yet there was no doubt in his mind that he would know his face. 

Yet he is not there to greet them, and Theon busies himself helping Rose, trying to ease her pain until Theon spots a familiar face standing on the balcony.

When Jon looks over the railing, he isn’t expecting much. His hands rest against the withered wood, atop of snow he can hardly feel anymore. A small party on horses venture into the courtyard, and Jon looks over their faces. Most occur to him as strangers until he sees the shine of copper hair. A long ago memory of home. When the girl turns, and he sees Sansa’s face, Jon steps away in disbelief and awe.

It had been by chance and miracle that Arya was returned to Robb. They were led to believe that Sansa was dead years ago, and he and his brother had felt certain that she didn’t go missing as much as she was murdered over the death of Joffrey Lannister at his own wedding. He and Sansa may have never been close as children, but he mourned her death the same as he mourned Bran, Rickon, and their father.

To see her now gives him a new pang of hope, and he approaches her in a way that suggests he’s prepared to see her vanish. It has been so long since he’s seen his family.

The two come face to face in the center of the courtyard, with renewed warmth and a touch of the happiness that had once felt so far away. Jon still looks at her like he’s seeing things; Sansa’s expression isn’t so dissimilar. There’s a moment of nothing but the sound of snow before they embrace, holding each other tightly.

When the two part, arms still linked, Jon notes her purple eyes and pink cheeks. “We thought you were dead — murdered by Lannisters.” The look on his face is enough to express how grateful he is that it wasn’t the case. “Come on. Let’s get you inside,” he starts, though belatedly realizes he hasn’t paid any attention to the group she’s traveling with.

It’s then that he sees one of them is Theon Greyjoy.

Anger over the betrayal of Robb, Bran, and Rickon surges forward as does he, gently pushing past Sansa so he can grip Theon by the collar of his shirt and shove him toward the nearest wall. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you for what you’ve done to my family,” he demands, the tone in his voice reaching the reflexes of many men of the night’s watch and wildlings alike, who appear ready to fight if need be.

But Sansa is quick to rush in, though she knows better than to try to get in between the two men. “Jon, stop! Please! There is so much you don’t know.”

Jon hesitates, loosening his grip but not letting go. “This is the man who murdered Bran and Rickon, Sansa! Who betrayed Robb!”

He didn’t believe it when we woke up on that table, only Ghost by his side. He doesn’t believe it now, as he sits across from Davos, Edd, Tormund, and the Red Woman Melisandre. Every man that had thrust a dagger into his chest is dead now, and him, alive. The Lord of Light wills it – that’s the only explanation he’s given. He doesn’t know what to do with it, but more than that, he doesn’t know what to do next.

He isn’t given much time to think about it.

“Open the gate!” He hears one of his men yell, but Jon is slow to get up and make his way toward the balcony.

For Sansa, the ride to Castle Black had been excruciating. Frigid winds cut and stung against her skin as the five of them raced toward the Wall. If her limbs weren’t numb and weary before, they certainly were by the time the Wall loomed above them.

But more than any pain is her eagerness to see her brother, and the disappointment of knowing that Theon will leave shortly after they settle into Castle Black. It’s foolish – she knows that. Of course Theon wants to see his family just as much as Sansa wants to see hers.

She just wishes that didn’t mean they had to say goodbye.

The thoughts are cast aside when they arrive, and some men of the Night’s Watch open the gates for them. It’s a worn and grim looking place, but anything is better than being under the thumb of Ramsay Bolton.

It’s Lady Catelyn Theon thinks of as he watches Sansa approach Brienne, the ever watching figure who yet another ghost of his long past time at Winterfell. The thought is not unwelcome now. It was long said by just about everyone in the north that out of all the Stark children it was Sansa who had Catlyn’s grace. It’s a comfort to see it in her now. The way that she holds up her head. He had seen her mother do similar on the battlefield with Robb. She had been a terrifiying shewolf. The kind that made you wonder whether the Gods should have made her a Stark by birth. There’s something similar in the way Sansa is quck to her feet and despite everything she had just seen is still able to attend to her duties. It’s a reminder that Sansa is far stronger than she seems and that the three of them might just manage to make it to the wall alive, especially with the additional two now added to their party.

It’s Rose who cuts through the scene first, quick to dash to Sansa’s side. Placing a hand on the girl’s arm. “It is a pleasure to meet you Brienne of Tarth but we need to keep moving,” 

Brienne nods in response brows quirking “And just where is our destination?”

“The wall,” Theon himself answers. “We need to get Sansa back to Robb and the easiest way to that is to go to Jon,”

Theon doesn’t know how much Brienne knew of him as her time with the Starks came after his own. If anything he was likely the disgraced Greyjoy who had murdered Bran and Rickon. Similarly he does not even know if she knows who Jon is, but luckily she simply nods instead of asking more questions and turns to tell her squire to check on the horses.

He wasn’t expecting another question to come from Rose but it hits his ears all the same. Strange how he was not used to others talking to him as if he were a person. “Theon,” She asks gently “Are you coming with us?”

He nods quickly in response, although his gaze falls to Sansa rather than to Rose. “I said I would get you home and I meant it,”

Mere minutes ago, Sansa was sure that their escape was all for naught. She had already been scrambling to create some kind of plan that might help them all before they were dragged back to Ramsay’s clutches, but all of those thoughts fall to the side. They are buried under the snow, and Sansa takes this moment of safety to breathe. She listens on while Theon, Rose, and Brienne talk about where they need to go next.

If all goes well, and they manage to take a few of the horses, they should get to Jon no later than just after the sun rises. As much as she knows she shouldn’t get ahead of herself, Sansa is hopeful. It has been so long since she has seen Jon, and if he is able to reach Robb, she knows that she could be seeing him soon, too. It makes her heart swell, which is the only thing to help her feel warm in this bitter, icy cold.

That, and how Theon agrees to keep traveling north with them. Sansa smiles, just barely, in the corners of her lips. While Sansa moves to step a little closer to Theon, Brienne asks for Podrick’s help in retrieving three of the Bolton’s horses that linger nearby, no longer with a rider.

“I will tell Jon everything. About Bran, and Rickon, and what you have done to help me. He will understand, and even if he doesn’t, all past crimes are erased once you take the black.” She just wanted Theon to feel as he once did. To be the Theon Greyjoy she remembered.

But that was impossible. After all, she wasn’t the Sansa Stark he remembered, either. She never would be again.

It doesn’t take long before Brienne and Podrick return with the five horses. “Are you ready to travel, my Lady?” Brienne asks Sansa, to which she nods.

There’s a certain amount of shock in Theon’s system at what appears to be a very sudden rescue, it makes his reactions slower than might have been expected otherwise. There’s a nagging voice in the back of his mind that things are never what they seem, but that is a remainder of Ramsay’s work and they have little option now than to let the lady fight for them.

Theon watches the knight collect her sword and get up of the ground. Driven by some sort of determination that he culd only pray was to keep Sansa safe. She kills another Bolton man from whom Theon is able to dash forward and retrieve a sword. Slowly beginning to think again.

The knight kills a man still mounted on his horse but it is the squire Theon watches. He’s young, perhaps around Sansa’s age, inexperienced in the way that he holds himself. So it is perhaps unsurprising when he too falls off his horse. He keeps ging but his hand to hand combat skills are proven to need work as his sword comes flying from his hand and he tumbles to the ground. He would have been dead were it not for Theon being able to step behind the Bolton man and run him through with the stolen sword.

Rose huddles close to Sansa by the tree, confusing knitting over her brow. “as in the one that served your mother?” she had never met the woman, but if Brienne was in Lady Catelyn’s service then that might help to explain why she was going to such lengths to help them now. “Can we trust her Sansa?” The girl has little time to even nod in reply before it seems that the battle is over.

The battle ensues in a blur Sansa has seen seldomly. She has seen fighting and death during tourneys, she even watched the Blackwater as it burned, but Sansa has never seen a battle so close. Blood flies while men yell and groan. Horses run free without their riders, some with corpses dragging behind. She watches wide-eyed and with baited breath as Lady Brienne continues to cut down men. The woman reminds her of the Hound, in the way she effortlessly fights several bannermen at once.

But her focus shifts to Theon, when she sees him rush toward a fallen sword. She wants to scream out to him and beg that he come here where it’s safer, but she stays quiet. It’s a long faded memory, but she can still remember Robb, Jon, and Theon training together in Winterfell. They were just children then, but Theon is no longer Reek. She knows he can fight, and he proves it by saving the life of Brienne’s squire.

She gasps to see it, but Rose brings her comfort. “Yes. Yes—she swore an oath to my mother. To protect me.” The memory of Brienne trying to convince her to leave Littlefinger and come with her hangs heavy. She should have said yes.

Soon, the forests fall quiet. Ramsay’s men are dead, along with the hounds. When Brienne approaches her, Sansa can finally breathe again. She wastes no time in struggling to her feet. She pulls herself together the best she can, shivering in the cold, but wanting to look strong.

She is strong, she reminds herself. Brienne lays her sword at Sansa’s feet, and offers her service once again. As numb as she is, she can hardly remember the vow, but she first looks between Theon and Rose. If it weren’t for her, this woman worth more than a knight, they would all be dead. Or worse.

Theon tries to sacrifice himself and it does not take long for Ramsay’s  men to find him once he leaves the other two behind. He does what he can, tell them that the Bolton ladies are dead, buried somewhere in the snow. It is not enough. The dogs do not stop pulling at their chains and almost like Theon is not there at all they come directly to where the two were hiding.

He scrambles back to them as quickly as he could as if placing himself before half a dozen mounted lords might stop them from reaching their prey. It doesn’t. Instead some part of Theon prepares himself for the thought that the three of them might die in that spot, left out in the cold.

“I can’t wait to see what parts Ramsey cuts off you this time,” One of the lords speaks cutting through him like ice.

Ramsey’s men find them. All of Rose’s worst fears coming true in a single moment. She does her best to put herself between Sansa and harm, but it does not stop one of the men from grabbing at her shoulder.

“Be careful!” She snaps sounding so much like her father. “I don’t think Ramsay would appreciate you damaging his prize,” The lord in question does not have chance to respond due to the sound of futher horses approaching. Likely more men here to drag them back to Winterfell. Except, Ramsay was not the kind to be in the company of women especially the kind donned in armour and now cutting down her brother’s men. This woman was a stranger as was her squire? Rose wasn’t sure. She’d never met a female knight before. A glance at Theon’s face shows that she is unfamiliar too, but that does not prevent Rose for hoping for a rescue at least until the woman comes tumbling from her horse.

She should have seen it coming. The cold and fear she feels is clouding her judgment, turning her toward wishful thinking and the foolish hopes she used to have as a girl. It only makes sense that Ramsay’s hounds would track them down, no matter how far they went or how well they hid. Sansa tries to push herself even further back into the tree, but a Bolton bannerman pushes through the space to grab her.

Defenses high, Sansa yanks herself away from him, though it’s of little need when Rose steps in between them. She tries to prepare herself for what’s about to happen next when they are joined by two people on horses with their swords drawn. Before she can react, the Bolton men are being cut down by strangers.

But they’re not strangers. Sansa recognizes the woman as Brienne of Tarth, and she thinks the man is her squire. A fight ensues, blood splattering onto snow, and the clash of steel swords. Sansa scrambles back into the hiding place beneath the fallen tree, staying out of the way as Brienne and her squire continue fighting Ramsay’s men. She takes down many of them, but they are still wholly outnumbered.

Rose had no idea what had passed between them before her brother had enter lives, aside from the short things she had gather when on the battlefield with her father. Theon Greyjoy had done bad things, everyone in the realm knew that. In comparison to her brother however he was like a hero from a song. Especially now in the way that he was choosing to give himself up. Her father had always called valour men’s weakness and in that moment Rose couldn’t help but think him right.

She felt back for her hold on Sansa of course she did but they also had to be pragmatic. She can tell how much this is hurting the girl just from the look on her face but that does not mean she changes her actions.

“I have no doubt,” Theon spoke gently. Another lie, there was no part of him that thought Jon might put together a search party but he covers up his thoughts by speaking again.”Now go north only north,” Before he’s gone into the forest directly towards the men they were supposed to be escaping from.

Thinking of Jon makes her anxious, because of just how sweet it would be to see him again. Almost too sweet to be real. Every time she’s close enough to family to touch, they are ripped away from her, just as Theon is now. She doesn’t want to lose any more people, but it feels like all she knows anymore is loss. That’s certainly what it feels like when she lets Theon’s hand slip away from her own.

She watches as he goes into the woods, but she can only hear the sounds of men’s voices and some growling and grunting of the dogs. Sansa holds her breath, staying as still as possible as they wait for the right moment to head north.

But the moment never comes. A man with one of the hounds comes closer and closer despite what Theon tries to say to the rest of them, and she and Rose are found before long.

His heart near shatters at the sound of Sansa pleading with him to stay. She had already lost so many people in that moment he near hates himself for threatening to become another on the list, but he had to try and give her a chance. His hand clasps on top of hers near prying himself from her grip. “I know,” his voice is oddly gentle. “but it’s the only way you’ll have a chance. Sansa you have to let me go,”

Rose feels sick to her staumach as Theon attempts to pull away. This wasn’t how things were supposed to happen. yet she keeps a hand on Sansa’s arm in some attempt to prevent her from doing something stupid. Honouring the fact that Theon had chosen to leave someone he clearly loved deeply in her care.

When she was younger her father had always tried to keep her away from the kennels, although at the time she believed it was due to a bad experience she had as a child and her lasting fear of them. It was not until she she came to Winterfell that she began to understand why. It ought to be the dogs that she was most afraid of now, but instead it was the sound of horse hooves and the thought that her brother could be close by that made it hard to breathe.

When she had first come face to face with Theon, her immediate instinct was to hate him. He betrayed Robb, and was the reason Bran and Rickon were dead – but that wasn’t true. He had made mistakes. He had lied. And he suffered greatly for it. Since leaving Winterfell as just kids, their stories weren’t so dissimilar. Theon soon became the only thing that felt like home, and she doesn’t want to let that go. She doesn’t want to let him go.

Her lower lip trembles, and she can hear her pulse in her ears. Arguing with him won’t do anything but get all three of them caught, but her grip is still tight on Theon’s hand until she feels Rose’s touch. She knows Theon’s sacrifice is brave. It’s heroic, but she still doesn’t want him to do it.

This is not going to work. That’s the only thing Rose can think of as they huddle there, the men aren’t stopping. They’re not moving away. At this point she’s not even sure hiding will work but they stood no chance running away from the horses and hounds on foot. Her mind races as she does her best to think of a way out for them, but as far as she can see they’re trapped.

She glances at Theon knowing that both of them would be willing to do anything if it meant keeping Sansa safe. Still she can’t want that. After everything she has just stood by and watched Theon go through she wants something better for him, but then maybe there is something noble in the idea of a good death. Though she hates herself for considering it.

At the sound of over here! Theon startles. The only thing he can think about is leading the dogs away from Sansa. Making sure she is safe regardless of himself.

“Stay here,” He tells both of them eyes pleading with Rose to look after her. “I’ll lead them away and then meet you at Castle Black,” How many times was he going to lie to them. Still it’s easier than simply saying goodbye. “Stay quiet, don’t loose each other,”

In the early days of being delivered to Ramsay by Littlefinger, she had been introduced to the dog kennels. Ramsay’s dogs were big and vicious, but only interested in food, not loyalty. There was no way that they wouldn’t sniff out the three of them hiding here, no matter how hard Sansa silently prays to herself. She begs the Old Gods and even the New, but she can still hear the crunching of snow as the men get closer.

If they are caught and brought back to Winterfell, Sansa has no doubt that Ramsay will do everything in his power to make sure escape is never a possibility to them again. Her heart cinches in her throat, but it’s even worse when Theon whispers that he will lead them away.

If there was one thing Rose was certain of it was that her brother was going to stop at nothing to get the three of them back. They were his playthings, they simply weren’t meant to run away. Well Ramsay should have guessed by now that she was never going to be the type of women who just did what she was told. Regardless of if she was known for sweet hearted that did not make her a meek little thing.

The sound of the hounds startles her and Rose’s staumach plummets at the Sansa’s renewed fear. She tightens her grip on the girl attempting to appear kind, older, a comfort like her brother Domeric had once been to her, “We need to find somewhere to hide,” She answers “Quickly now,” Pulling the two of them futher into the forest.

They come to a fallen tree and Theon is pulled the other two to cower against it. It’s trunk grants them shelter for now and Theon does not hesitate to wrap his arms around the other two in an attempt to keep warm. “We have to be quiet,”

The howling gets louder and louder. She can hear the hooves of horses, and the shouts of men. It sinks her heart straight down to her knees, and fears of what will happen to all of them start to run rampant. All three of them have suffered greatly in Ramsay’s hands – they all have their own scars to prove it. If he were to capture them now, Sansa can scarcely imagine what he would do.

Her heart pounds fiercer as a result, in terrified agony. Sansa follows Rose’s lead, nodding when she suggests they hide. She’s too panicked and freezing cold to try and worry about what may or may not happen as a result. She ducks down beneath the fallen tree, squeezing in close with both of them.

Sansa clenches her jaw as hard as she can to stop her teeth from chattering. She’s so cold it feels like she could pass out any minute, but the fear of being found is enough to keep her blood flowing. When they get closer, she holds her breath.

They had to keep going. Theon repeats the fact like a mantra. He has to get Sansa and Rose somewhere safe regardless of what happened to him. Maybe then he’d be able to go find Yara, to find Robb and tell them that he was sorry, but he tried not to think about it with the terror of Ramsay still reigning over them. If there was one thing he was certain of it was the two girls would likely survive recapture. They were simply too useful. He himself however, would most certainly die.

He feels guilty for lying to Sansa but it’s the only thing he can think to do in that moment. By foot the trek would likely take two days at least and that’s not something he can bring himself to tell her. So he keeps a tight hold of her hand, hoping that it brought her some level of comfort and made sure the three of them kept moving forward. They had to find somewhere safe especially as it was going to be dark soon.

Concern creases Rose’s brow in a manner that she can’t hide. “We have to hope so… Even if it doesn’t lots of my Brother’s men won’t want to cross the river,” she sighed. Glancing at Theon hoping that he had an answer “I’ve seen it before,” He answered. “A servant boy Ramsay was hunting managed to get away,”

Sansa nods, choosing to believe Rose. She knows Ramsay and his men better than she does, and it seems likely enough to her that his men wouldn’t want to risk crossing an icy river in their chain mail. After all, it’s not like he won’t know where they are headed. Ramsay told Sansa himself about Jon’s position as Lord Commander at Castle Black. He knows that’s where they are headed.

The thought scares her into wondering if Ramsay will still succeed in cutting them off before they get there, but she reminds herself that the North is large. There are miles and miles between Winterfell and the Wall, which means they have plenty of ways to go and places to hide.

As soon as she stepped into the water all Rose wanted to do was to climb out again. The water was nothing short of freezing and each touch of it burned. She used to play in the river that ran near the dreadfort in childhood, but it was nothing like this.  Dragging her bad ankle along the bottom of the river she was more than grateful to have Sansa there to lean on as she focused on simply putting one foot in front of the other.

Luckily they reached the edge of the bank before too long and with Theon’s help she managed to climb out. It was then that just how much trouble the three of them were in seemed to sink in, stood out in frozen clothes in the middle of winter. If they weren’t careful they would never even reach Castle Black. No that was simply not an option. They had to keep going.

“Not far,” Theon answers. He’s tired now, shaking from the cold. How odd that after everything he had been through it was this that might kill him. “We need to keep going north, once we get to the wall Jon can get you to Robb,” He glanced at Rose then knowing that like him she was probably wondering where that left them. Robb was unlikely to want to see either of them still breathing.

They make it across the river and onto the other side, but climbing out brings no relief. Her dress sticks to her skin, the icy air freezing what doesn’t drip onto the snow. There’s no stopping the way her body shivers, desperate to drive out the cold to no avail. Once they’re all out, they keep trudging forward through the snow.

And as much as she wants to believe Theon when he tells them they don’t have far left to go, she knows it can’t be true. Winterfell to Castle Black is no quick trip. There’s no way they will make it there before the sun sets, and then what? Sansa tries not to think about it. Not now anyway, with Ramsay still hunting them down like animals. They will figure something out. They have to.

It hurt more than Theon could say to see Sansa like this. True there were three currently in their party, but Rose was a survivor. He’d seen it first hand, Ramsay had forced her to do so much that the frozen river likely paled in comparison. Similarly he supposed, Theon had heard stories about the wolf in sheep’s clothing Sansa had become. She had even murdered Joffrey, or so the story went, but when he closed his eyes it was hard not to see the little girl that he had once played princess and knight with all those years before.

“We have to,” Theon responds, tone unwavering. This was the only way he was sure of it. If they spent time trying to find a way around then they would just be giving Ramsay and his men time to catch up to them. “Anything else will take too long, and we’ll be able to warm up fine when we get to Jon,” He was putting on a brave face he was sure the other two knew it, but he would have rather frozen to death than be a prisoner again.

“At this point our only option is to try,” Rose breathes. Sansa is scared she can see it on the other’s face and so it was perhaps unsurprising that she tried to be of some comfort. Moving around her until Sansa was firmly in the middle. “C’mon I’m sure they’re getting closer,”

If months with Ramsay has been this miserable and painful, Sansa can hardly fathom years or a lifetime. Ramsay had beaten Theon down so badly that he was scarcely the man she remembers from her childhood, but she can’t deny that glimmers of him have been coming back. Before, he wouldn’t even admit to his name being Theon. Now? Now they’re escaping. They’re all finally escaping.

The thought helps her feel braver, as does Theon’s tight grip on her hand. If they die in this river, Sansa has to admit that it’s a better fate than being dragged back to endure whatever Ramsay will plan for them. “Okay. Okay,” she relents, sighing a breath of air that fogs up in the cold. She huddles up in between Theon and Rose, and uses what remains of her strength to brave stepping into the river.

How quickly Rose would have changed things if she could. If the gods could grant her the power to go into the past she might have been able to save dear Domeric. Might have convinced her father to not even grant Ramsay a home with their halls. Might have even one of the pretty boys she used to see at feasts and dinners. A Karstark boy, or a Mormont. Seven hells knew she would have even given up her title and married a bastard if it would have granted her a moments safety.

Still there was nothing she could do now except help people the very same people her brother had spent so long trying to pull apart. she had dinner with the Starks once, had found herself seated with the younger girl, how strange it felt to be here now. “We have to get around the river somehow… Maybe we can cross futher up?”

“No,” Theon was quick to correct her from where he stood still gripping tightly to Sansa’s hand. It seemed like there was not a single thing in the whole world that was going to be able to separate the two of them now. He had seen her suffer through too much not to cling to her now. Especially when they were so very close to safety. “We have to throw of the hounds. We go through it,”

The river isn’t frozen anywhere near thick enough for them to even think about crossing. The flow of water is slow – it could be peaceful, if it weren’t for what was hunting them down. Sansa spent so much time dreaming of Winterfell and wishing for it, only to be running from it now. It is her home, and she wants it back, but not with a monster like Ramsay at the helm. Just thinking of the man made her skin ache even worse than the cold.

Though it might be this river that does them all in before he can get the chance. Rose suggests going forward to see if there is a safer place to cross, and Sansa nods her head in agreement until Theon is adamant against it. “Go through it?” Her voice wavers with both the chill and her lungs desperate attempt to get in air now that they’ve stopped.

@wintertakesthewolf rose’s right ankle burned with every movement. each step flaring pain within her leg. she had definitely injured it jumping from the battlements into the snow and would most likely need a maester to look at if she hoped to not do any form of permanent damage. still there could be no turning back now. theon had seen to that when he had thrown miranda from where she had been standing threatening sansa onto the ground bellow them. if she closed her eyes even for a moment rose bolton was almost certain she could picture the scowl fixed to her brother’s features. something that only seemed to be further affirmed by the howling of dogs in the distance. a sound that filled her with chills, pushing her onwards even if she thought she might die from the pain. “this way,” dazed and more than freezing she just about managed to call over her shoulder. “we can get to castle black if we keep going…” her eyes strayed behind her then to where sansa lingered behind them. “sansa,” she called out her concern showing in her tone.

they had done it, some how. one moment he had been begging sansa to go back to her room, the next he had been dragging both her and rose to the edge of the castle in the hopes of escaping ramsay’s wrath. he owed both of them that, this, even the slightest chance that they may get somewhere safe. roselyn had never been anything but kind to him despite the torment they both faced and sansa, well he owed her this because of everything he had cost her and her family. not to mention the foolish love he had had for her as a child. in many ways she was all that remained of the theon from before. it was clear now, acting like theon greyjoy for the first time in months that he might never be him again. still trudging through the snow was hard and he had to be careful with his footing. rose was limping, he could see her dragging her leg in front of him. sansa meanwhile seemed near frozen from the cold. still it wasn’t till he saw her stop that he turned back to her. “we can’t stop,” he spoke tone sharp. “we’ll become food for the hounds,”

Everything happened so fast – Sansa still hasn’t caught up. To Myranda being thrown off the balcony, to her, Theon, and Rose jumping from the battlements, she is certain that her mind is as numb as the rest of her. Her skin burns and cracks from the cold as the frigid wind whips past them as they run. Her lungs ache, her throat is dry. Her legs stiffen the longer they run through the snow, but she knows they can’t stop. The howling began not long after they jumped, and she knows Ramsay would stop at nothing to get all three of them back.

But knowing that doesn’t make their escape any easier. Sansa follows Rose and Theon the best she can, but the cold has seeped into her bones. She’s slowing down despite her best efforts, though it’s quickly noticed by the others.