"...I thank you again for your service," a faint male voice murmured.

"Anything for you, Lord Snow," the voice of Davos Seaworth rung a little louder.

I dared not open my eyes. Lord Snow.

My brother, Jon.

I heard footsteps walk away and a chair pull up next to me. I could feel soft sheets against my body, and a mattress below me.

Two rough-skinned hands gently picked up mine, holding it closely against a leather vest. It was him. It really was him.

He noticed me feel the vest with my fingers, whispering "Edda?" In hopes of a response.

The tent was dim-lighted yet I squinted my eyes as I opened them, afraid of who I'd see. Slowly I let my eyes flutter open. My heartbeat fast as my vision cleared the blurriness of awakening.

His eyes were the same dark brown I remembered and his hair was black as night. But he'd grown stronger. Taller. He even had a beard now.

I stared at him silently as he started to laugh with joy, eyes watering as he stroked my face. "Edda..." he leaned down to kiss my forehead. "My little sister, what has he done to you?"

He? I almost forgot who he meant.

Oh gods... Ramsay. Ramsay, my husband Ramsay, he must be looking for me-

I started to get up. Jon calmed me, "It's alright, you're safe now."

My breathing quickened. "Where am I?" I pushed away his comforting hands. "Jon where have you taken me-"

"Calm," he tried to hold my face, "He doesn't know where we are-"

"No I-I must go back," I tried to stand up, only to be sat back down by Jon. "I must go back to Winterfell. Jon, take me back. Take me back Jon!"

"We will go back." He promised, "Together."

I blinked.

He gazed down at my arm. "...Gods..." he cursed as he saw my collarbone as well, and the cut on my face: Flayer, Ramsay, R. My husband had left his mark.

Jon started to cry. He pulled me into a warm embrace, taking me by surprise. I didn't hug him back. I didn't know what to do.

Kissing my cheek he promised. "He'll never touch you again little sister."

My hesitation was erased. I didn't know what to do, and so I held him. I held onto him and rested my head against his shoulder.

...

I sat by the fire with Jon's arms around me, wrapped in a blanket and with a mug of soup in my hands. I'd been sobbing for a while now, not really knowing why. I knew I needed to go back to Ramsay and our children. I was his...

But Jon's arms were so welcoming. His voice so soothing and loving. I couldn't move. I could only cry.

Someone entered the tent loudly. We both turned to see who it was.

"Edda!" Sansa exclaimed, kneeling before me. Her eyes were full of emotion as well.

I didn't know how to react. I couldn't even speak. What would Ramsay think of me? What would he do if he knew?

She gave Jon a worried look after tracing the R on my face with her thumb. Quickly shifting her focus back to me she mumbled "Is it true?"

I stayed silent.

"You have two children with him?"

With a big gulp of my soup, which contained the perfect amount of salt, I shakily nodded.

She held my hands, rubbing her thumbs on top of my fingers. Sansa was clearly trying not to cry.

Jon helped by talking for her "Our men... They couldn't find the children in time. I'm sorry."

I put my mug down, noticing how much I was trembling. "They're safe." They both gave me a look "My lord... my lord husband, he loves them. They're safe."

"He won't be your husband anymore," Sansa wiped away her tears, forcing a smile, "We'll make sure of it. We'll never let him near you again."

Again I did not know what to say. I stayed silent.

...

As night fell the three of us sat at my table. I still hadn't said much. I was listening to their tales of what had happened to them since the last time we saw each other.

Sansa had been wed to Tyrion Lannister, and then lived in the Vale. But Petyr Baelish promised to help her regain the North.

Jon... died? But he's alright now. I didn't ask him to explain further in depth because it had to do with Stannis' Red Priestess and she scared me.

They both awkwardly turned to me. Their expressions told me what they meant to ask.

"...Were you there when...?" Sansa forced herself to ask.

My heart ripped in two.

The Red Wedding.

"I was..." I blinked out tears, the horrible memories I had repressed filling my head once more. Jon immediately took my hand. "But I got my revenge. I killed Roose Bolton myself," looked up at them. "Ramsay helped me kill him. Why did you take me from him?"

They both have each other looks. Sansa had trouble with my question, "You were held captive by the Boltons, alone and vulnerable. We'd heard of the atrocious actions preformed on you by Ramsay Bolton. Some men said he made you watch as he flayed people alive, made you sit on his lap and expose yourself. Made you watch as they executed the Blackfish. Some even tried to convince us you were mad," she struggled to finish, "And... he f-forced himself on top of you-"

"Sansa," Jon warned softly.

She nodded quickly, tears streaming down her eyes again "I'm sorry I just cannot believe... I kept on praying for the girl at Winterfell to not actually be you. I-I should've let father take you with us to Kings Landing I would've protected you-"

"I want to go home." I whispered.

Silence fell upon them both.

A young man came into the room, apologizing before resting a letter on the table.

He almost mumbled "From Winterfell."

The three of us exchanged looks before Jon sent him out again. He grabbed it, tearing it open by the Flayed Man stamp.

He looked up at us both as he read it to himself first.

"Jon," Sansa insisted, "Read it to us. What does it say?"

He stared at me with pity.

Sansa snatched the letter and started to read it out loud. "To the traitor Sansa Stark and bastard Jon Snow."

She continued:
"You have captured my wife, Lady Edda of House Bolton, Heir of Winterfell, and imprisoned her in your camp. You have allowed thousands of wildlings passage beyond the Wall. You have challenged my strength and my authority. You have betrayed your own kind and you have betrayed the North. Winterfell is mine, bastards, come and see.
Your granduncle's decapitated body hangs from my wall. His rotting flesh smells of fish, come and see.
I want my bride back. Send her to me, bastards, and I will not trouble you or your wildling lovers. Keep her from me and I will ride North to slaughter every wildling man, woman, and babe living under your protection. You will watch as I skin them living. You will watch as my soldiers take turns raping Sansa, and then bastard you will watch my direwolf eat her alive as she did Walda Frey. You will watch as my dogs devour the traitorous Lords who side with you and their families. Then I will spoon your eyes from their sockets and let my dogs do the rest. Come and see.
Ramsay Bolton, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North."

With a cold look on her face she folded the paper. I extended my hand for it, but she put it in her cloak.

Jon chewed on his lower lip.

"He'll kill you," I mumbled - visibly shaking in fear "Please take me back to him. Surrender your claim on the North, and run as far away as possible from his reach. I belong by my husband's side, take me home or I promise you will not be safe from the Bolton wrath-"

"Ramsay Bolton's wrath cannot reach us here-" Jon started.

"It can and it will," I stopped him, "I know him well enough to know it will."

Sansa shook her head and shot up to her feet, " Let his wrath come to us. Let his army come to us. We will not let him touch you ever again."

"We'll protect you," Jon agreed, nodding. 

A pang of sorrow stabbed my heart as i remembered everyone who had said they'd protect me. Father, Robb, mother... and where were they now? And when Ramsay said he'd protect me, he did... but not from himself.

"No one can protect me," I said, "No one can protect anyone."