Discoveries

Chapter Twenty-Two

Discoveries

The news of the trip's extension seemed only to make the days tick by much more slowly. To stave off boredom alongside an offer of kindness, Sansa took turns riding in and out of the carriage with some of the soldiers that were most weary. This allowed for Sansa not to feel as though she might go insane staring at the small space's drab décor as well as help all members of their traveling party to be better rested and prepared should an incident on the road occur. As it was, there were very few journeying the roads during this time of year, and the ones that were tended to be brief not wishing to linger any longer than need be in the winter's chill.

When Sansa did decide to brave the cold gusts of wind and flurried snow, she did so alongside Ser Davos or Brienne and Podrick (the two parties would not intermingle since Brienne still holding pangs of loyalty for Renly could not bring herself to trust a man that had been advisor to Stannis Baratheon.) Even at Sansa's behest that Davos was a good man that held the interests of the Starks close to heart, Brienne would thank Sansa for her counsel yet made no move to further the relationship. Ever vigilant, Brienne always refused to take Sansa's offer for her and Podrick to take a turn in the carriage (which Podrick never espoused that he'd still wished the offered break, but he visibly sagged at Brienne's proclamation that to keep Lady Stark safe, they would not be able to do so sequestered within the confines of Sansa's carriage.)

Brienne's sentiment, steadfastness, and courage was always appreciated, but something was niggling Sansa as the group traveled on. Although Brienne had never been overly talkative; when they had made the long trek to castle Black, the two had still spoken in sparse clips then and mostly of what their primary objectives were in reaching Sansa's brother Jon and how Sansa planned to retake their home from Bolton occupation. The mind cannot dwell on the grim for too long before a needed spark of optimism must prevail, and it was in those times that Sansa and Brienne found solace in fond memories of Catelyn Stark. Brienne had not served Catelyn long, but it had been long enough for the loyalty, that was no less a part of Brienne than air was sustenance for a gasping lung, to forge a lasting bond that the warrior woman would honor until her death. Brienne, Sansa knew, would always hold true to her vow to serve her, and she did not question Sansa's choices although since the reclaiming of Winterfell and after her return from Riverrun with Podrick, Brienne of Tarth had been particularly reserved. This was in part because she could not get Jamie Lanister out of her thoughts but more so because of the discoveries she gradually made of the woman she'd sworn an oath to attend.

Sansa had been so taken with first her revenge and then her growing fascination with Ramsay that she'd hardly spoken to Brienne since they'd resettled within the keep, but Brienne had never wandered far. In fact, unbeknownst to Sansa, Brienne had seen glimpses of what she had done to Ramsay that shook her to the core. It wasn't the violence that Brienne disagreed with as not unlike Sansa's father and at the onset Jon, she would have seen Ramsay simply cut down for his crimes.

That was not what bothered the Lady of the Sapphire Isles; what clung to Brienne now were the images that she had witnessed when her concern prodded her to check on her mistress' whereabouts. Brienne was a woman honor, but the acts that she briefly observed taking place beyond the dungeon door held anything but. Looking through the small slits carved into the dungeon door Sansa's abnormal choice of torture in having a large wooden phallic object inserted and bonded to the man in tightly fastened ropes had taken Brienne's breath away and ultimately marred her vision of the bold woman that now rode beside her.

The knight's horror only multiplied upon the announcement three days after the capture of Ramsay Bolton that he would become the night's entertainment not unlike an awful attraction at a seedy brothel house for even seedier men. Of anyone, Brienne understood the struggle of being a woman in a largely patriarchal culture, and she held an understanding for why Sansa had a reason to loathe Ramsay Bolton and wish him great harm for the atrocities he had reigned down upon her. It wasn't Brienne's place to tell the lady of the house in what ways to treat her enemies, and as long as she herself was never asked to partake or bear witness to what Brienne considered debauchery unfit of House Stark, she would not object.

No, Brienne would not protest Sansa's rights to do whatsoever she deemed fit to a man like Ramsay Bolton as she was not naïve to the wicked accounts that many spoke of on his behalf, and even if having never been told of his deeds, the bedraggled remains of the Iron borne prince was a testament of epic proportions to what that man had been capable of. Had it been anyone halfway decent Brienne may have sought to speak in his defense; as it was, she couldn't bring herself to speak on the matter at all (even when Podrick had queried inquisitively why she had been so dour upon her return to camp shortly after the discovery of what Sansa had taken to doing with Winterfell's war criminal. Lady Tarth had only given Podrick a warning glare leaving nothing more that dared to be asked about the matter from that point on. Having been Brienne's squire for long enough, Podrick knew better than to pry although it didn't take long for word to filter through the entirety of the keep what Sansa had been up to.) But, Brienne had given her word as a knight to serve and protect Sansa, and it would not be broken although it was being considerably tested leaving Brienne feeling off kilter to the personal standards she held herself to.

Sansa watched the way that Brienne now tended to break eye contact when they spoke choosing instead to look far off into the distance rather than at her, and as the last days of their journey to the mill progressed where Sansa had chosen to spend more time outside of the carriage rather than in it, the stilted responses and dragged out silences took their toll to the point Sansa was bolstered enough to address Brienne about it, "Lady Brienne, I can't help but to notice something is bothering you. I ask of you now to please speak freely."

Sansa requesting this of her made Brienne's throat feel like it was constricting; she wasn't one to be afraid of voicing her opinion, but the thought of offending Sansa worried her greatly. It had taken a great deal to win the young Stark's confidence in her, and although Brienne didn't think that Sansa would dismiss her under grounds that she felt her actions were questionable, it could create a strain on their relationship. Brienne grimaced taking in a deep inhale before turning to finally face Sansa's query, "If I may Lady Sansa… I… I…" the words died in her throat for lack of a tactful way to approach the subject; Brienne grimaced further.

Cool blue eyes continued to regard the knight until Brienne felt what she wanted to say formulate solidly in her mind. Brienne's eyes fixed Sansa with the utmost conviction now as she spoke in an even keel absent of the previous doubt she'd exhibited, "Forgive me, Lady Stark. It's nothing to trouble yourself with. I've just been at odds with some of the upheaval caused in the wake of grisly warfare. I assure you, it will pass."

But would it? The fact that they were making this trek at all confounded Brienne as it had many that had learned the reasoning behind it was to seek out some further knowledge on Ramsay's history. Sansa had informed Ser Davos that she wished for him to be candid with the men about the reasoning for their journey because she felt honesty was better than rampant rumors (and it was easier to let Davos spread the word rather than herself since these men trusted Davos… all except Brienne who had not heard this unveiling from the old smuggler but instead from her squire, Podrick, whom as her protégé was quick to pass on any information to Brienne he thought as a point of interest. Brienne had silently wondered if the reasoning behind gathering information about Ramsay was only to further torture the prior keep's holder for further exacted revenge since the harsher side of the two's relationship was all that Brienne and most everyone else was currently aware of, but such a notion vanished almost as soon as it had been imagined. The fact that it had been imagined at all though made that uncomfortable sensation of doubt in her honor as a person that she'd felt before reemerge and settle in her gut.

Sansa did not prod further as she studied her companion for long minutes thinking on how Brienne's words conflicted with the emotion written on her face. They rode on for some time in silence before Sansa spoke again in an orotund fashion denoting her natural station as a noble, "You are wrong."

Taken aback by the unexpected response after having thought conversation had tapered to an end, Brienne swiveled a muddled expression onto Sansa, "I beg pardon, my lady?"

"I said you are wrong. It most certainly is worth troubling me as whatever seeps into your soul burdens you; of this I can tell. For us to keep secrets erodes trust, so please espouse to me your concerns." Sansa's features reflected the gravity of the way she felt as much as that of her tone.

Brienne nodded stiffening as she straightened on her horse. Her chest heaved a great sigh; if her lady wished to know the full truth then she would give it to her. Her words felt gravelly as she spoke them, "As you wish my lady, I shall not mince words. Please do not take me saying as much to mean any disrespect, but you are not your mother Lady Sansa, and where my fealty to protect you will never waver, my heart questions your current path."

Sansa blinked slowly registering the impact of Brienne's opinion. The warrior woman was one of the few that she did now trust implicitly, and for her to question her path made her question herself. She swallowed, "Ramsay… he's a complicated addition to my life that I hadn't quite foreseen stretching in to what it has." Brienne was regarding her now with a frown, and Sansa found herself frowning back, "You disagree I'm sure as many others will and do."

Brienne replied gruffly, "I do, my Lady. I don't believe in prolonged suffering. In the end it will only make your own anger persist to twist you into becoming that which you now torment."

Realization dawned across Sansa's face as understanding of what exactly it was that Brienne had assumed of her, just as many others would Sansa was sure. But to have Brienne under the impression that the original wrath that she'd bestowed upon Ramsay was still persisting even now was not the image she wished the knight to see her in (even if it was a misconception that may work in her favor for those that would wish the worst on Ramsay.) Sansa's eyes flitted about to ensure privacy before she responded in a low voice, "What you have heard is not the entirety of the situation I assure you."

Brienne countered bitterly, "But what I have seen has given me more than words ever could. What I would give if I could un-see what I have already witnessed."

Sansa's face blossomed in a flush of shame unaware of what Brienne must have seen to have upset her so thoroughly. It rose an awareness in her of how far she'd let herself fall originally when her sorrow and hatred had driven her to pull Ramsay into the bowels of despair and anguish for her sole appeasement of beholding his misery. It was a much darker place than she currently resided, "I am sorry for whatever you saw; I'm sure it was not pleasant to take in. I was not in the mindset then that I am in now, and I cannot and will not excuse my previous actions. What I did then, I needed to do, but he has changed, and in the rouse of his change, so have I. I'm not looking to hurt him any longer but to make him a better person. The point of finding this destination is because I seek understanding to help me help him."

Sansa's declaration released the burden of wavering faith Brienne had been feeling that perhaps her mistress was getting corrupted by the revenge she was exacting, and she exhaled her relief, "My Lady, you own me no justification… but I do value your consideration on my behalf. The articles that you address have weighed heavily on my mind, and to know your intent reassures me that as I should have well known from the start that I had no reason to fear. I am most sorry; I will not doubt you again."

Brienne's restored belief in her brought about a thankful smile, "You need not apologize, but I do ask in the future that if ever you have cause to doubt that you are free to come to me and address the matter before it festers as this one did."

Bowing in deference Brienne responded, "Of course my lady. I…" Brienne stopped short as the thundering sound of hooves rang out over the hillside. The two scouts that had ridden ahead were returning bringing Brienne's more cautious side to become alert and aware of whatever news they would soon share.

The horsemen did not dally riding directly to where they saw their mistress as one of them spoke, "My lady; we have found it. We have notified the widow of the mill of your soon to be arrival."

"You did?" Sansa's retort was laced in mystified disbelief; she half expected that they would find the mill abandoned or the widow long since dead. It had been almost fifteen years from Maester Medrick's account, and a peasant's life was hard after all especially when there was no kin to help you in the day to day trials of surviving in the times they did. Sansa nodded to the man, "Good. Let's not keep her waiting then."

The men returned her nod spinning back around to amble over to the guides leading the party and informed them the direction they would need to take to reach the mill. The group picked up the pace of travel now brimming with excitement at the prospect of finally reaching their intended destination none as much as Sansa although for different reasoning. For the men making the journey it signified the halfway point of their voyage where the remainder meant their return home, and for Sansa, she felt a wash of anticipation for the truths she hoped to unearth by meeting this woman.

As they crested the hill to see the ramshackle cottage and dilapidated mill, Sansa recoiled inwardly that anyone would have to live in such a hovel. She'd seen plenty of similar properties before, but knowing this was once Ramsay's home brought about a sense of further pity to its occupant now. There were people milling about the estate as their assembly approached looking on in awe and slight fear. Sansa had to remind herself that this was a prior Bolton dominion, and the people here had come to expect to be ruled by terror rather than allegiance. These thoughts brokered a barely contained scowl to form on Sansa's face as they passed the onlookers and made their way to the front of the main cottage where an aging woman past her prime stood solidly awaiting their arrival.

Past the weatherworn wrinkles that marred her face, her beauty still reflected keenly in her visage. Unlike those that surrounded her cottage, this woman stood bold and without concern of their expedited approach. Her eyes affixed to them as that of a hawk staring down its prey, Ramsay carried her distinguished brow and thick lips as well as the wavy fullness in his hair that this woman possessed, although the color in her hair was faded of his vibrancy most likely due to age and a lifetime of poor diet. She stepped forward firmly her mouth remaining a tight line as she waited for Sansa to step down from her horse and make her way over to where she silently waited.

Brienne hopped down from her horse coming to Sansa's side to help lift her down from her own horse and walking a few feet behind her mistress as Sansa approached the widow. The soldiers on foot that accompanied them took up steps in similar fashion behind the two women keeping a much further distance than Brienne where the other half on horseback remained at a distance to stare on at full attention in case they were needed although none expected trouble out of peasants residing in a far off mill in the middle of nowhere.

Sansa's face was expressionless now doing her best to retain the noble countenance she'd been taught to show in front of those that she was unsure of their demeanor and trustworthiness. This woman similarly regarded her with equal measure rigidly awaiting to hear what Sansa would say. Sansa straightened giving a slight bow of respect, "Forgive our intrusion, I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell, and I have traveled a far ways to seek your counsel. Would you be amiable to a sit down with me?"

"Counsel!?" the woman's voice practically sputtered in surprise her eyes growing wide as if she'd just been told she'd grown a third eye, "From Winterfell you say? What brings a noble of house Stark this far East to speak to a lowly miller, my lady?"

"Your son, Ramsay. I wish to speak to you about him," Sansa stated uniformly not wishing to divulge any feelings one way or another for the man in his mother's presence. She didn't wish to evoke any response in the widow that mirrored her own. If the woman was given a predilection to assume her own feelings about Ramsay (whether positive or negative), the woman may react in kind to remain agreeable. In this way, Sansa felt that she had a far better chance of gaining a true account from the woman if she remained completely neutral.

There was a long pause whether due from shock of the query on her son or wariness to proceed Sansa was not sure, but the woman's gait shifted as she brought herself to stand even straighter her mouth pursing tightly over gaunt cheek bones as her dark brown eyes flitted cautiously from Sansa to Brienne. Her face seemed to harden further as she replied briskly, "Whatever the bastard has done, do not bring it to my doorstop. I unburdened myself of that child over a decade ago. If you wish to seek counsel on him, go to lord Bolton in his lofty Dreadfort; that is where the boy absconded to."

Sansa snapped back dryly, "Lord Bolton is dead. His lands are now mine. I would not trust the word of Roose Bolton now even if he were still breathing. The man was a viper in heart and nature."

There was no denying this woman was kin to Ramsay Sansa noted as the woman's eyes narrowed and a spark of anger Sansa had seen reflected in Ramsay's eyes flared and her mouth contorted in the same seething fashion as his when she spat, "Through blood, sweat, and many tears, this homestead is mine! I've not received pittance since the bastard left… not that what lord Bolton gave in remittance amounted to the trouble the boy caused me. Are you looking for him now as a last heir to rid the world of any that might rise against you for overthrowing house Bolton, or are you coming here to lay claim over my lands in retaliation for having been forced to sire the demon's spawn?"

Sansa blinked surprised at the level of hate levied towards her at the mere mention of Roose Bolton. Even more so that Ramsay had apparently been a product of rape although the latter really shouldn't have surprised her given what she herself had been victim to marrying in to the Bolton house. Like father, like son… the widow's announcement had managed to ruffle Sansa's mien though causing her jaw to drop slightly as she shook her head no, "I've not come to take your home from you nor am I looking to find Ramsay to eliminate any possible lingering Bolton threat. I'm only interested in information that I can get solely from you. If you would entertain me I will pay you the gold price of twenty gold dragons for your time."

The woman visibly staggered from the offer, "Twenty? I… yes my lady, please," she backed away throwing her hand toward the door to invite Sansa inside, "I will tell you whatever you wish."

Sansa nodded and glanced to Davos who returned her nod making his way over to them, digging out the coin, and leaning over to place the coins in the woman's hands who greedily observed his motions with avarice shining in her eyes. As the money was presented to her, she swiped them quickly into the folds of her apron giving Sansa a smile and a curtsey.

Having made the exchange, Sansa glanced to Davos whose face reflected disdain to give this woman anything under such pretenses, but he said nothing, and for that Sansa was grateful. From the little bit that she'd been witness to, Sansa already did not care much for this woman's attitude. To be Ramsay's mother, it seemed she held nothing but contempt for him. Not once had she called him her son or by his trueborn name, Ramsay, only 'the bastard' and 'the boy.' It was distant and removed in a way that Sansa had not imagined a mother could be, but in her given titles for Ramsay, she started to get a true glimpse of their relationship.

Brienne had been allowed to follow her in, but Sansa had held out a hand after the warrior woman had passed to stave off any others to remain on the woman's porch. It wouldn't due to have the woman spooked by an over abundant show of force. The widow led Sansa into the small alcove made of three rooms, the main living area, and an open door on either side leading into a bedroom. The main room was tidy and inviting enough with a large fireplace that lit the room with a warm glow. The room held sparse decorations of obviously handmade knickknacks of rudimentary skill, a small table large enough to seat four, and a rocking chair set by the fireplace with a basket lying beside it containing a mix of what Sansa recognized immediately as sewing and knitting supplies.

By the entrance an 'L' shaped countertop was built into the foundation with what looked like tools for grinding and baking. This was a mill, and from the looks of the well-worn floor in that particular corner of the small confines of this house it was likely where the widow spent most of her waking hours. Sansa's eyes had drifted to the corner taking it in, but she did her best not to let her eyes linger anywhere in particular only taking in the entirety of the dwelling in a sweeping pass before settling at the table where the older woman had pulled out a chair for her to sit. Sansa watched this woman curiously as the woman moved around the table clasping her hands in front of her nervously, "I can offer you some hot tea and day old sweet bread if it pleases you, my lady?"

Sansa forced a smile as she nodded, "Thank you; that sounds wonderful." The woman swiveled around to grab a hanging cup from the ceiling moving swiftly over to the fireplace where she carefully poured a steaming cup of the kettle's contents into the mug and brought it back to set it in front of Sansa before moving over to a breadbox where she removed a half loaf onto a cutting board and quickly cut and served a slice of the bread on a small wooden plate to Sansa before looking to Brienne and back to Sansa, "I can serve your knight as well, my lady," the widow offered, but before Sansa could respond Brienne held up a hand, "That will not be necessary." The woman nodded simply before moving around the table then to sit across from Sansa to await the said inquiries the gold dragons had paid for.

"Thank you for your hospitality," Sansa remarked taking a small bite of bread and a sip of the tea out of respect. She'd thought over so many questions to ask this woman prior to arriving at this very moment that her mind was now suddenly devoid of what exactly she truly wished to ask. The woman was staring at her expectantly now, and Sansa's mind was a blank. She flushed suddenly feeling very foolish as she looked down into the steaming cup of tea and back at the woman before her, "Forgive me a pause; it's been quite the journey to find you that I'm a bit stunned that it has come to fruition at all."

The woman genuinely smiled at her admission, "I hope that I can give you that which you are seeking then. I should apologize. I did not mean to seem so harsh upon your arrival; it's hard to run a mill in the middle of nowhere… with no man to fend off marauders… or …others that might seek to destroy what I've built here."

Sansa nodded in understanding, "I imagine that it is a challenge. I thank you for taking the time to indulge me about your son, Ramsay. From your earlier remarks, I take it that your and lord Bolton's was not a secret love affair but copulation made without consent, and for the pain that my bringing his name to your table brings I am sorry. What I do wish to know is what you can tell me about Ramsay; anything of significance would be most valued."

The mention of Roose made a noticeable twitch to course through the woman as she stared down at the cracks in the surface of her table responding in a monotone as if removed from the memory as she spoke it, "Lord Bolton… he took my Henrick from me, and left me with a lifetime of regret. The lord takes what the lord wants, and who are we to say otherwise?" She let loose a humorless laugh, "He killed my husband and implanted within me a seed that I could not escape his treasonous acts upon my soul. I raised the boy still mostly because my husband's brother did his best to take what little I had left of my Henrick in this mill." Her head teetered and her brow lifted as she drew silent reliving those memories from a lifetime ago. Her gaze lifted to Sansa now as she continued, "Roose Bolton… he retaliated against my brother-in-law after deciding that the newborn I brought before him did indeed resemble him. There really was no denying it even if that high born bitch at his side refused to acknowledge the truth!" She scoffed her lip curling into a snarl, "I was promised a small trifle to take the boy away along with my land, and my brother-in-law? Well, he lived, but I never saw him grace my plantation again." She shivered, "The boy though… Ramsay …every time I looked into those icy blue eyes, I saw a Bolton staring back at me." The woman grew silent then retreating inwardly and seemingly unable to continue the conversation further before bringing her gaze up to Sansa as she asked in puzzlement, "What is it exactly you wish to know, my lady?"

Sansa had been transfixed on the woman's face, body movements, and words as she spoke, and when addressed, Sansa was brought back to the conversation as a participant rather than just an observer. Listening to the woman's reflections brought about a sinking sorrow within Sansa to hear her speak of Ramsay as if he were no more than a further manifestation of her torment. It was becoming clear that this woman had been incapable of being a mother to him, and Sansa now sympathized with the boy that Ramsay had been. She straightened at the question his mother asked thinking on what exactly she wished to reveal to this woman of her relationship with Ramsay in order to address getting what she really wanted to know.

Sansa wanted to gather the most efficient information that could be useful in understanding the way Ramsay thought and how to reach him as well as to recognize what to avoid. She'd already made the connection before this venture that Ramsay had triggers concerning her, and the last thing Sansa wanted was to encounter one where he may in turn react irrationally with her. As it was, she'd seen a flicker of something dangerous in Ramsay from their first conversation had about his mother, and it had been enough to spark an avid curiosity to know more about why merely talking about this woman had caused such a reaction in him. But that aside, what was it that she really wanted to know? Everything. Impossible. Sansa's eyes traveled back up to take in the woman staring at her across the table; her lips parted to speak but the words she wished to say seemed to be lodged in her throat. After a moment's hesitation, Sansa finally stated, "I want you to tell me what you remember of him, what was Ramsay like as a child, what were his habits; what did he like and dislike?"

The widow blinked losing eye contact to stare off in thought. It was apparent these were not the questions she had expected, and they had caught her off-guard. She stood grabbing a cup from the above rack and made her way over to pour some tea for herself before returning to the table and reiterating the question out loud, "What was he like? He… he was clingy… always underfoot and curious about everything. He got IN to everything!" She shook her head frowning as she sighed in exasperation, "All the boy ever did was whine and cry… always pulling on my skirts wanting something! I had to set him in his room while I worked to keep him from getting in the way."

Her eyes lifted to take Sansa's expression in, and seeing a note of disdain reflected in Sansa's feature's even though she did not comment, Ramsay's mother pleaded justification, "If I'd still had a husband, I may have been able to keep up with his antics, but as it was, I was stranded alone and left to tend to all matters of the mill myself so as to keep a roof over our heads. I didn't have time to keep track of everything he'd get up to, but you asked what he did like? He liked to be outside. He preferred that to his room when I had work to do, and as long as he wasn't causing trouble, I let him roam free." She took a long sip of her tea before continuing in a sense of weariness, "He wasn't like other children, and the other children could tell there was something off about him, so most times, they refused to play with him. It was just as well. I didn't need to have other parents coming to my door complaining about him getting their children into his …habits."

The woman grimaced at Sansa, "You wanted to know what he liked to do? He collected bones, and dead things! I can't begin to tell you my horror at finding a rabbit carcass under his pillow after searching two days for the putrid scent!"

Sansa found herself gasping in slight disgust the thought brought about as she asked her voice sounding weak in her own ears, "Why? Did… did he ever give reason?"

Seeming mollified that Sansa finally reacted as she had, the widow huffed, "Said he liked the feel of it. He'd make disturbing toys out of many things he found out in the wilds." She sighed, "But such is the way of little boys. He became a lot easier to handle once I managed to convince lord Bolton to send aide to help raise the boy. The bastard needed a male to guide him where I couldn't, and after everything that man took from me, he owed me that much!"

Sansa swallowed hard remembering Maester Medrick's tale of the joke of a man Roose had sent with the widow. She cleared her throat, "I had heard that you were aided further by a manservant of lord Bolton's stead. Can you tell me more about this fellow, Reek?"

"Heke," the woman corrected, "His name was Heke, but everyone called him Reek because he smelled of decaying flesh and sweat, a truly awful stench that he tried to cover up by wearing posies on his brow like a ridiculous crown! It didn't help, but the man was useful enough and one grew used to his stink after a time." She paused her face growing pale as she sputtered, "He chopped wood well enough and kept the boy entertained. He didn't ask for coin, so who was I to complain?"

Sansa frowned, "I see. So… Ramsay and this …Heke… they got along well enough?"

The woman shrugged, "I suppose. Heke took him hunting, taught him things… how to survive I imagine. Whatever it is a man teaches a boy. It kept the boy from getting in the way of work needing to be done, and Heke helped put meat on the table. We rarely had that before he came around," the woman's eyes shifted away, and Sansa could see a rising shame fill the woman's face. There was more there that she was justifying and not saying, and to recognize it made Sansa's gut twist.

"Do you… do you have any of his personal effects left?" Sansa was reaching now, but the longer she sat here with this woman the more uncomfortable she was becoming. What she was taking away from this meeting wasn't wholly what she'd expected, she was wishing that she'd not come here at all. She wasn't really sure what she had anticipated this meeting to have been like, but Sansa hadn't foreseen it being like this. For all of what Ramsay had done to her, to many others, she'd never pictured him a victim of anyone else prior to her especially not of this woman, but that was yet another foolish assessment she realized dumbly. This woman was so lost in her own needs and prior trauma that Sansa could tell she never once equated Ramsay's needs above her own. This realization saddened her and gave a whole new understanding as to why Ramsay had reacted the way he had to the smallest of acknowledgements and comfort she had bestowed upon him. It was obvious from this woman's responses that she'd blamed Ramsay for the atrocities Roose had brought down upon her as if he'd done so himself.

The widow blinked giving Sansa a dumbfounded expression, "Personal effects? My lady, he's been gone years. What would I have kept? There is the mattress in the other room where he slept; I kept it for the use of a guest, but for the coin you've given me, you can have it. It's back here," she rose motioning to Sansa who also rose to follow her not because she wanted this peasant's unwanted mattress but because Sansa had decided she had heard more than she ever cared to from this woman.

Even so, Sansa found herself turning towards the bedroom that her back had been facing curious to see where Ramsay had spent his nights. Upon examining the bedroom further, what Sansa saw only made her dislike this woman more. Within the years that had followed Ramsay's departure, it looked as if the widow had used the majority of the room as storage for various odd items, but the bed she spoke of was visible under some of the piles of miscellaneous objects stored upon it. It wasn't the disgusting decrepit mattress that had brought out this feeling of ire but the deep grooves cut into the walls and along the doorframe of the chamber. It was obvious that the woman's workday where Ramsay had been 'kept out of the way' were long hours of tedious boredom for the child to a point that he'd clawed at the door and walls as a means to try and escape this closet sized cave that held no window and a bare mattress on the floor.

Before the widow could finish removing the items littering the bed, Sansa blurted, "That won't be necessary. I've no need for it. I've heard what I needed to know, and I'll leave you in peace now, thank you," Sansa backed out of the room quickly turning and bounding out the door before the widow had a chance to reply. Brienne stepped aside to let Sansa quickly pass by and gave the still crouching surprised woman a nod before spinning around to follow her mistress out.

Sansa did not stop walking at a breakneck pace until she'd made it back to her horse. Brienne had to practically run to catch back up to her, and when she had, Sansa turned a dour expression towards the cottage before turning her attention back to Brienne as the warrior woman helped her mount her horse. "Let's leave this domicile before I wish to see it burned to the ground," Sansa's voice was taut with emotion; she was more than ready to retreat back to Winterfell away from this awful place that spoke of nothing but neglect and likely further abuse than she cared to think a child enduring.

Brienne having heard everything Sansa had simply nodded with understanding, "As you wish, my lady." There were no further words spoken between the two as they rode back up the hill to rejoin the awaiting horsemen, and once they'd returned to the road, Sansa no longer in the mood for company withdrew to the confines of her carriage grateful to be heading back home. She had been afraid of what speaking to the widow would uncover, but not for what she actually had been informed of. In some ways, she felt there was so much more that she could have learned from this woman, but from what she did learn, she decided that she'd rather Ramsay tell her himself when he was ready.