Depths

Chapter Twelve

Depths

Sansa made her way towards the dining hall to find Jon only to hear he'd retired for the night not long before she'd arrived. Deciding the matter with Ramsay's guards couldn't wait, Sansa made her way towards his personal chambers hoping he'd still be awake. Jon often preferred alone time, so she suspected he'd likely be available for a little while longer. As she made her way upstairs and down the hall, Sansa noted Maester Medrick, House Bolton's prior raven and message advisor, was leaning against the banister staring down at the dining hall. He was watching the soldiers and nobles from other houses enjoying relaxing next to the warmth of the fire and sharing a drink.

She found it odd that he would be up here alone in the dark, but the fact his face was contorted in a look of consternation as Sansa approached brought a concern to cross her own features, "Is there anything the matter Maester Medrick?" Sansa questioned as she sidled up next to the man to look over the banister herself.

Maester Medrick merely sighed tiredly shaking his head as he turned his portly form to her, "No, no, my dear. I'm an old man, so all of this change just weighs heavily on my sensibilities. I find I'm not much for drunken festivities, but to watch others smiling and carrying on from afar can be soothing to a troubled mind."

"I understand. That does seem calming; I think I'll join you a moment," Sansa stated turning back to look out over the crowd with Maester Medrick a bit relieved that there was nothing truly amiss. She assumed such a sudden change in regime by the deposing of the previous house would be rather unsettling for a Maester as they typically held no bonds of loyalty to any house and transferred to the victor like property in the event that a house had been eliminated. Much like the knights of the watch, Maesters held vows of celibacy and served the seven kingdoms. Known as knights of the mind, they served through being scholars and teachers of the many academic and skilled arts that were learned at the high citadel.

Maesters typically schooled or advised lords and ladies after their training was deemed complete, and for every art they mastered, they held a ring around their neck classified by a specific metal that represented their mastered studies. These ringed chains were worn as a badge of honor to never be removed, even while sleeping. Of course most Maesters were mastered in no more than a few of the eleven trades, so most houses, no matter their size, typically had more than one and sometimes sent them between houses to help reduce the deficit of knowledge.

House Bolton currently had (or did have when the keep was theirs) three Maesters. Sansa was most familiar with Maester Wolkan, who only wore a chain made of silver symbolizing him as the medicinal Maester. He had come to check on her daily to see if she'd been experiencing any symptoms of pregnancy; Roose had been persistent to find her carrying a child to propagate his family line through a Stark. Maester Wolkan was always kind and respectful, a mild mannered quiet man. By the amount of visits he was made to pay her, she could tell living under the Bolton's rule seemed to strain him greatly by having to also tend to Walda Frey dutifully.

Maester Rhodry had originally served under House Cerwyn and was a standoffish sort preferring to engage in conversation with only a select few or not at all. He had seemed rather relieved of the change in leadership of the keep although he was never garish enough to say as much about House Bolton's defeat. He had tended some of the ravens, but his neck was lined proudly in both types of iron rings denoting he was also a prided strategist.

Maester Medrick's neck held three different kinds of rings, black iron, copper, and gold. Although Sansa only saw the man tend to the ravens when she'd walked about the castle, the other two rings, copper for history and gold for coin management were likely less utilized outside of private discussion with the lord of the house. Still it struck a chord of interest within her now as she casually glanced over at the man wondering what he may know, "Maester Medrick?"

The man had moved back to staring down at the mingling people below as she'd originally found him, but as she called out his name, he brought his attention fully to Sansa, "Yes, my lady?"

She straightened turning to face him to give him the same afforded respect he granted her, "Tell me; were you part of house Bolton long?"

The man blinked giving her an affirmative nod, "Yes, Lady Stark, I served Lord Bolton for nearly thirty years. I've been with House Bolton since I left the citadel… was with them. Oh my," Medrick turned back to face the banister as his hands shook rising up to settle on the chain links around his neck to pick at them in a nervous sort of twitch.

Sansa frowned, (even though the family wasn't one of the best houses to serve, they had been his house, and Medrick had served them a lifetime.) "I didn't mean to cause you any suffering Maester Medrick, I am just curious about history, and from your copper rings, I know it to be a knowledge you are well versed in. I would like to be privy to what you can divulge to me in regards of House Bolton, namely of Ramsay Bolton."

Medrick grimaced a deepening frown, "Ramsay Bolton… that one… oh do be careful, Lady Stark. The bastard of Bolton is a vicious mongrel not to be trusted."

Sansa inhaled deeply, she'd heard these same words of warning from so many already it was becoming old hat, "Thank you. I will be careful; I assure you. I ask because I would like to learn more about Ramsay, so I may have a better understanding of the man."

Medrick nodded, "As you wish, my lady. Let me see… eh, where to begin." He tapped his belly staring up at the ceiling lost in thought for a long moment before he began again, "Ramsay… Ramsay didn't arrive at the Dreadfort until he was burgeoning into manhood, around ten… maybe twelve perhaps? Even then he was rather capricious and fowl mouthed walking about like he should own the place around all those not his father." Medrick sniffed in disdain, "Boy was nothing more than a common peasant! It took years of being shunned to the back half of the Dreadfort and Lord Bolton threatening to be rid of him to get the boy to take his studies seriously. If you ask me, Lord Bolton should have beaten out the malignance that festered in that boy every passing day. Perhaps if Ramsay had actually challenged him Lord Bolton may have, but the Boltons never were much for leashing their children, and to be honest, Lord Bolton couldn't care less what Ramsay got up to especially after his eldest passed on."

"Ramsay had other siblings?" Sansa's brow raised in curiosity. She'd heard a lot about many of the different houses growing up, but the Boltons tended to be left out of that conversation into a glossed over generalized history (mostly tales of their gory predilection towards flaying their enemies.) They were a house with a tenuous alliance even though House Stark and House Bolton had not actually warred in close to a thousand years. There had been many uprisings in the past generations that had resulted in the Bolton's surrendering with sons and daughters sent to other houses to be wed to strengthen alliances into a grudging truce.

The Maester shook his head, "Poor Lord Domeric… he had wanted a brother so badly. He was the first to take to his horse and follow the river down to have a look see at the bastard, against his father's wishes I might add."

Sansa tilted her head further intrigued to hear the Maester knew where Ramsay had lived before coming to the Dreadfort, "Do you know of Ramsay's mother? Is she still alive?"

Medrick seemed taken out of the reverie of his tale as he paused to think about Sansa's question, "Yes, yes, I think she still resides in her mill; it's located North of the Dreadfort following the path of the Weeping Water. Lord Domeric told us that he'd approached the mill, but Ramsay had been out on a hunting foray not due to return for the season. Ramsay's mother, seizing the opportunity, was more than quick to pawn the boy off on Lord Bolton when he'd returned from his hunting expedition. Within a months' time, Ramsay came to live at the Dreadfort. Ramsay had grand notions of entitlement from the day he arrived, and I'm quite sure he wanted to be Lord Bolton's only son…" Medrick scowled, "He never took kindly to competition. It wasn't long after his arrival that Lord Domeric fell to a sickness of the bowels that killed him in a fortnight. Lord Bolton suspected poisoning by Ramsay's hand, and if I had to make a wager from the things I've seen the man do with my own eyes, I'd have to agree with him."

Sansa's face sobered, it was no secret that Ramsay had been a scoundrel of the deepest depravities. To hear further tales of the things he could have done and most likely did do reminded her of who exactly she was dealing with. It made her stomach turn thinking if she had to make a bet, she'd also agree with the Maester's prediction. Sansa wouldn't put such an action past Ramsay at all from the length of time she'd spent in his company… at least not the old Ramsay. Ramsay had a lot to atone for, that was saying he could ever atone fully for the heinous acts he'd already committed. She was doing her best now to think the best since she'd already made a point to spare his life, but hearing such things didn't do well for her resolve that he could in fact change. Sansa had to ponder if Ramsay was not turned into the vile person he'd become through Roose Bolton, as she'd originally expected, then where did it begin?

The Maester's face had turned up in disgust, his mind still on the loss of Lord Domeric, feeling no need for further accusation but having more venom to add to the pot. It was no secret that Maester Medrick was not fond of Ramsay in the slightest, "Should have seen the lot he ran with, all of them just as bad and quick to temper as he was… and don't get me started on that smelly manservant that trailed behind him wherever he'd go," Medrick shook his head sadly, "I fear he tried to turn that poor boy from the Iron Isles into the very picture of that fowl creature."

Sansa's brow crinkled feeling a pang of revulsion, "You mean Theon? Ramsay had another man he tortured into submission?"

Maester Medrick sighed looking slightly uncomfortable, "Oh no, this one Lord Bolton sent to live with Ramsay and the miller's widow when she'd come to demand a servant to tether the unruly boy. It was a wonder Lord Bolton didn't have her flayed alive then and there for such audacity. Instead he thought it funny to mock her by sending her back to her mill with the man who slept with the pigs because no other could stand to be near him. He was strong as an ox and quite dutiful although he had troubles of his own. He was said to bathe thrice a day, but the stench that poured from him was enough to wilt the nose of any that came within arm's length. He even went so far as to douse himself in the lady of the house's scented oils! After a stern lashing with a whip, the lout made his way a full turn of the season's later to drink the concoction nearly defecating himself to death in an attempt to rid himself the smell from his own skin. But his smell was far from the worst aspect of the man. He'd been seen… doing atrocities… to dead animals. Ones he likely killed himself through cruelty," the Maester's brow had dotted with perspiration visibly paling in his remembrance of the first Reek becoming clearly uncomfortable with continuing to speak any more about the man out of tact for Lady Sansa.

As the Maester continued to tell her of this other Reek, Sansa's disgust shifted from Ramsay to Roose, "That's awful. What had this woman done for Lord Bolton to curse her and his bastard child so?"

Medrick looked apologetic as if he needed to feel remorse for the action by simply shaking his head sadly.

"I see. Thank you Maester Medrick, you've been most enlightening. I'm sure I'll have need of your services again. Please… enjoy the rest of your evening," She gave the man a slight bow turning on her heel to walk away swiftly as Medrick opened his mouth to bid her a farewell and thought better of it by the way Sansa had spun away and left so abruptly. He had to wonder now if he'd upset her; Medrick watched her form disappear down the hall as his fingers fumbled back to the links of chain around his neck.

Sansa's mouth formed a tight line deciding that she would find out more from the source herself. The Dreadfort was a day and a half's horse ride away. She could take a small group of trusted men that knew the area well with her to follow the river and find this supposed mill. She was reminded that she still needed to speak to Jon, now she had something more to ask of him. He wasn't going to be happy, and neither was Ramsay.

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"You want me to what?" Jon's face took on a look of confusion as he tried to comprehend everything that Sansa had just told him but mostly what she was asking of him now.

"I'll be gone three to four days, and I'd like you to ensure Ramsay's not getting mistreated." The look Jon gave her had soured a while ago, and it turned even more disgruntled at the prospect she was presenting him now, "I'm not asking you to have a tea party with him Jon, I just want to make sure men like the two guards I just told you about don't have access to him. Can you handle that, or will I need to take him with me?"

Sansa didn't want to take Ramsay out of the keep for a magnitude of reasons, but mostly because she wasn't sure what to expect from him when occupying the same space as his mother. From the reaction she had gotten from Ramsay at dinner and what Maester Medrick informed her, Sansa was more than a tad wary of what to expect given the current circumstances. The weather was also not getting any better, and under these conditions, it was going to be a tough enough journey to make without having the men accompanying her feeling constantly on edge with a prisoner to guard as well. Besides, letting him come with her would be a reward where after what he'd just done, Ramsay needed to be punished; of all things, the one thing she did understand well was that Ramsay needed to know without question where she stood and that her conviction was solid.

Jon merely stared at Sansa a good long moment; his lip twitched as the vein on the side of his neck flexed in concern and irritation. He didn't want to have anything to do with Ramsay except to aide in his execution, but Sansa clearly held some form of affection for him now. Jon couldn't wrap his head around the reasoning why, but that was her will to do as she wished with him now; he'd already acquiesced to as much. Jon also didn't like the idea of Sansa trekking across the snowy expanse of the Northern territories with the countryside still rather unsettled. Many had expressed their gratitude to have had them overthrow the Boltons especially after Ramsay's recent rash of flaying members of houses that refused to swear fealty to House Bolton.

Regardless of Ramsay's monstrous acts, there were those that still stood against the Starks, the Karstarks for one still held animosity for the offense that Rob had taken off the head of Rickard Karstark for what they saw as a justifiable retaliation. There were others that also were unaware that the Starks had reoccupied their homestead, and to find Sansa outside of the keep may cause an unwarranted attack on their men just to bring Sansa back to the Boltons for an expected reward for her return. Jon shook his head, "I don't like the idea of you out there for days on end. It's dangerous Sansa; you could get hurt, or worse, you could get killed… over what? Ramsay Bolton? It's a foolish errand, and I really wish you'd forgo it."

Sansa's eyes burned with her certainty as she remarked flatly, "I did not ask for your opinion on whether or not to make this journey, Jon. I'm going. I've been through far worse lands than my homelands to get where we are now. If you are worried for my safety, I will let you pick the men to accompany me. What I need to know is, whether you'll watch out for Ramsay for me. Will you, or won't you?"

Jon did like that Sansa would at least give him the call of handpicking her escorts. He knew who he would want by her side, and he was sure that they would be more than obliging to serve him and her in this way. Still, Jon didn't like that he would not be by her side for this trip; she had brought up a valid point at the beginning of their conversation that one of them would have to remain at the keep to man it, and between the two of them, whatever answers this voyage held, he didn't have the questions to ask to receive them. Jon closed his eyes tiredly before giving a small nod, "I'll do it. You have my word."

Sansa's face brightened as she stepped forward and embraced him talking into his shoulder, "Thank you, Jon. It means a lot that you'll put aside your feelings to do this for me."

Jon hugged her back, but he was still frowning over what he'd agreed to as he muttered sullenly, "Just try to hurry back, and please… be safe out there."

She nodded into his shoulder hugging him a little tighter before retracting and giving him a warm smile that Jon couldn't help but to return. Sansa replied assuredly, "You can count on it." She paused a moment before asking, "What of the guards?"

He could tell the incident with the two men that had been guarding Ramsay had upset her greatly, and in this too he nodded although uneasily, "They'll not get within shouting distance of him, and I'll do my best to make sure the men that do guard him won't cause him any strife. I hope the same can be said of him." Jon grimaced giving Sansa a look that spoke he expected difficulty from Ramsay.

Sansa stated matter-of-factly, "I plan to punish him full sore with the strap tonight for his aggressive behavior, and if he gives you trouble, I encourage you to take it upon him yourself to do the same. I'll leave the strap out on the chair for your convenience."

Jon blanched as the immediate visual of her doing as much came to mind followed by seeing himself in the same way. He shook his head, "I… I don't think I can do that."

Sansa smirked seeing her brother, former commander of the Knight's Watch, looking squeamishly uncomfortable, "It has proven to get the desired affect from him. I assure you Ramsay's been nothing but respectful to me as of late."

Jon huffed giving her a frown, "You and I both know there's a lot more reasoning behind that than a simple spanking. I'd rather give him a fist to the mouth if it's the same to you."

Sansa glowered at him, "It's not! You'd better do no such thing, Jon Snow! He's still got cuts and bruises on his face from your first go at him; I don't want anything cut or broken on him when I return!"

Jon couldn't help a small grin at how indignant Sansa had become; it reminded him of arguments they'd had as children where she'd given him that same exact expression. He held his hands up in supplication letting out a small laugh, "Alright, alright, a tanning it is, although you're making this just as unpleasant for me as for him if I find a need to discipline him I'll have you know!" He was teasing her now, but he truly hoped that this discussion was as close to a reality as the topic came.

Sansa visibly relaxed to know Jon wasn't planning to pummel Ramsay if the man angered him (which she was genuinely worried that Ramsay would when he came to find out Jon was going to be his caretaker while she was away.) "Thank you. I'll make it up to you somehow," Sansa assured grabbing Jon's cloak for him as he'd already thrown his boots on and an extra layer of clothing to make good on his promise to her.

Jon allowed her to help him shoulder the fur lined cloak and clasp it as he watched her with a piqued curiosity, "I have no doubt that you will. I can't say I understand what is driving you to go so far for the likes of Ramsay Bolton, but if this is a victory you're trying to obtain in changing a man like him, I will try to help in your efforts. Do not expect a miracle from him, and never forget what he is."

"Was," Sansa corrected her head lifting to stare regally at him.

Jon tilted his head, his face expressing clear mistrust, "It remains to be seen. Don't be caught unawares, Sansa. Whether you've cowed him or not, at any moment that can change just as Theon grew a backbone to defend you, he may grow one to hurt you. I won't lie to you, I don't trust him, and I likely never will, but for you, I will try."

A smile broached her lips at Jon's words, "That's all I could ever ask. I know what he's done, and I don't expect this to be a smooth road for any of us." She paused seeing that Jon was searching her face trying to understand why she was doing this for a man like Ramsay, Sansa swallowed thinking on her words a moment before she added, "I know what I saw in him the day I first met him Jon, and the awful things he did to me… he hurt me every night without remorse. That's why when given the chance, I did unspeakable things to tear him apart because I hated every bit of the man. I succeeded. Now whether I ripped the nastiness from him, I cannot say, but the man I have seen come from the broken mess I created is not the man I knew. I see a spark in him that wants to be better, or at least that's what I think I see… maybe it's just in my own head, and I'm seeing something that's not there," her eyes fell from his as a seed of doubt crept through her to trust so much in her own judgement when the stakes were so high. Sansa felt such blind faith to be foolish, but she found the need to see this, whatever she was doing with Ramsay, through to the end. She shook her head bringing her gaze back to his, "The way he looks at me now Jon… I can't explain it… It just doesn't feel like he's putting on airs or lying to me. After the terrible things I put him through, I think he's honestly too afraid to lie to me."

Jon's hands rose to grab her shoulders giving them a tender squeeze, "Okay. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. I suppose even a fiend like Ramsay Bolton can be turned around if you're there to help steer the helm," he said this with sincerity and all seriousness.

Sansa felt Jon's confidence in her, and he helped to swell poise within herself. She smiled once more reaching out to hug him tightly again feeling on the brink of tears. There were so many overwhelming feelings concerning Ramsay within her, and until now, she had kept the majority of them bottled up within herself. It felt good to finally be given a chance to unburden some of those feelings into the open to the only person she felt she wholly trusted anymore. Jon held her for a long moment before Sansa finally pulled away eyes glazed over, "Thank you."

He smiled back at her giving a simple nod before opening the door for the both of them, "I'll have the men you requested by morning. Make sure you pack enough for a few extra days… just in case you get caught out in the weather."

She nodded as she moved to file out, "I will." They parted ways then. Jon headed out towards the Wildling's camps and Sansa back to Ramsay.