*The night was silent. Silent, dark, and cold. Yet because of my nightly terrors I could not sleep.

I slowly pried Ramsay's arms from around my large belly, grabbing the candle next to our bed and getting up with difficulty.

Before leaving the room I looked over at the desk next to the window, where a single unfinished letter lay. A letter to Sansa Stark that we'd send tomorrow morning along with Brynden Tully's head.

And that was exactly who'd I'd go to see every sleepless night for two and a half months in the dungeons of Winterfell. I made my way to him, my bare feet against the cold stone of the Keep and only a black nightgown on my child-carrying body.

The guards of duty muttered a respectful hello, not daring to make eye contact in fear of breaking the code. I knew they would not break it. If I was certain of one thing, it was of their loyalty.

As soon as my uncle heard me come down he started to exclaim "An' here she is! Her most honorable Lady Bolton, Wardeness of the North. How thoughtful of you to visit me again,"

I shone my light into his cell. In five fortnights he had become skinny as a bone, almost bald, and lost three fingers.

"Uncle," I held my chin up as I peered down at him. Seeing him like this destroyed me, but I couldn't let it show.

"Seven hells." he coughed out a laugh, "My child, do you ever sleep?"

I grabbed onto to bars of his cell. "I cannot sleep when even every waking moment I live in fear."

"Of your husband?"

"Ramsay protects me and really does truly loves me."

"I didn't ask if he protected or loved you, I asked if you're afraid of him."

I refused to answer that, changing the subject. "We've found where Sansa is. She is in Castle Black. With a man who claims to be Jon Snow... Lord Mazin told me he was dead, but perhaps he really is Jon Snow." My hold on the bars made my knuckles white as I took a shaky breath. Whispering so that no one else could hear I confessed "I don't know if I want to go to war with Sansa and Jon over Winterfell, but I don't want to betray Ramsay. I love him, uncle."

"You're sick," he murmured.

"Go on then, shame me!" I snapped. "Shame me because I was forced to marry the son of the man who killed Robb and my mother and helped the Freys imprison my uncle. Shame me because itself of killing myself I forced myself to accept my role and make the best of it by making this son love me enough to agree on killing his father to avenge my family." I whimpered as tears streamed down my face, "I can't leave him. I love him, uncle. He has made me want to live again, in his own twisted way he makes me feel wanted and safe and if that makes me evil for falling for him then so be it!"

He gave me a pitiful look before shakily getting up from the dungeon floor to face me. "You are not evil, Edda Stark." The Blackfish touched my hand "You are sick. Your illness was given to you by the hardships you've suffered. I look at you even now and I see the girl my niece gave birth to, not the Lady Bolton you're trying to combine everyone you are." I flinched before he touched my face with his almost fingerless, bony, dry hand "I know this is my last night on this earth, and that Ramsay plans to execute me in the morning. And I know you will hate him for it, but still continue to love him. I will await in heaven for you. I will make sure the Seven know your light and not the darkness you've plunged yourself into."

I pushed him away, croaking "You should have surrendered to him, uncle. I am so sorry, but he gave you a choice."

"Don't apologize. The Gods know of your innocence in my murder." He continued. "You think you are loyal to Ramsay Bolton because you love him but you are only doing this to survive." At this point I felt he was more convincing himself than me "Please just say it's true. Please just let me die knowing that you haven't betrayed your mother completely-"

"My mother would have wanted me to survive," I stopped him, "And wanted you to survive as well. You still have time to declare your loyalty to him. Plead for your life to him tomorrow, I'll try to make him show you mercy."

My uncle gave me a melancholy smile and shook his head. My heart shattered to pieces as I swallowed my tears thinking about losing yet another family member. I nodded my head in understanding.

Brynden stayed silent as I began to walk away yet as soon as I made my way up the stairs I heard him say his last words. "I'm not pleading for my life tomorrow. I am pleading for yours."

...

The people of Winterfell gathered for the execution of Lord Tully. Both Ramsay and his Lord Commander stood together with me on the platform as they dragged him towards us. The man was so exhausted that he could barely walk.

Ramsay glanced at me, furrowing his brow at me holding back tears. He expected me to make a the of war after the execution of the aged Blackfish as he was forced onto his knees to face the silent crowd. All of Winterfell cheered at the prisoner's misery.

My husband stepped forwards before our men. "My lord, my ladies. Whom you see before you is an enemy of Winterfell. When given a chance of peace, he decided to capture Lady Bolton and our child. And so this cruel man shall suffer the fate that any who prove to be our enemies will suffer." Ramsay pulled out his knife as he continued. "Sansa Stark has foolishly decided to try and take Winterfell from our lawfully inherited hands. Before you know it she will suffer the same fate as her kin and the North shall be ours to reign as if it was our own kingdom."

I couldn't look away, horrified yet frozen as Ramsay grabbed Brynden by the patchy hair on his skull. Everyone was watching me, anticipating a reaction from me. Any. Even Ramsay looked back at me for a moment, giving me a soft smile that made my stomach sick.

Holding the knife to his throat Ramsay muttered "Last words?"

He stayed silent.

With a fast beating heart and a small voice screaming in my head for me to stop this I closed my eyes as Ramsay slit the Blackfish's throat, his blood spewing into the faces of those who stood too close to him.

Tears poured from eyes as he viciously sawed off his head, stabbing him in the throat multiple times and tearing his loose head off. There were grunts and gasps of pain and disgust as he ripped the skin and pulled apart the bone.

As his body flopped off the platform Ramsay held his severed head by the hair, hair that proved weak and could be pulled out by the chunks.

Ramsay my uncle's head high for everyone could see with a menacing grin. The whole Bolton Army and those who did not let out their breakfast started to cheer and, to our surprise, chant: "Sansa next! Sansa next! Sansa next!"

I looked up at Ramsay as I wept in horror. He looked down and kissed my forehead. "Don't fear, my sweet wife," he whispered, "Soon we'll kill them all."