Even now, you could still feel the prick of the needles on your fingers. Still, you remember that this was your punishment for rushing your needlework just for some more time. 

Currently, you've taken refuge in the godswood. Not that Lady Catelyn had gone off with her beloved golden son no one visited here very often. You shiver from the cold, for all the isolation, you wondered if it was worth the frozen fingers. 

If he were here. 

You sigh wistfully, cheeks red from the biting cold. You remember that the two of you had done plenty of ... unseemly things in here. Suddenly, the blush on your cheeks cannot simply be accounted to the cold as the memories came rushing through you. 

Lips pressing against the small of your back, a calloused hand grasping your own, shuddering in his embrace as waves of pleasure rolled through you, even the strange mix of humiliation and adrenaline you felt when you caught Robb's eye with Theon's hand down your dress. 

(But that is a tale for another time.) 

Even through those risque memories, even through the salt and stone, you knew there was tenderness in him. 

His smile that shone brighter than the flames from the hearth, sure hands that held so much strength and gentleness, an easy, tinkling laugh that sounded like music. 

You could spend the day thinking of him, missing him, pining for him, but for now...

A letter was in order.

For Ramsay.

Forgive me .