CHAPTER 34 | WOLVES AND GIRLS

WARNING: CHAPTER CONTAINS TRIGGERING SCENES

"WHERE IS SHE?"

Jon looked around at his party. The group of four looked around at each other in confusion. He asked again, "Where is she?" They surrounded the village square of Bear Island, the locals staring at them as they passed. Jon's party was causing a commotion, but he didn't care at all, because they still had one missing member as the minutes ticked on.

He grabbed Tormund's collar, spitting in his face, "You were watching her. Where did she go?"

"First of all, let me go." The Wildling shoved Jon's hands away, releasing a huff. "Secondly, I went off to take a piss. Now, I admit: that was pretty stupid of me, but when a man has to –"

"GET TO THE POINT!"

Tormund looked down at his feet. "I couldn't get to her in time. The Boltons – they took her. Put a sack over her head and threw her in a carriage."

Jon closed his eyes, realizing he was suddenly breathing heavily. He put a hand over his heart and tried to control it. This couldn't be happening – oh, but it was. The villagers surrounding them were suddenly too much, and Jon felt the space in front of him growing smaller and smaller.

Sansa laid a hand on his shoulder. "Jon, look at me." She ordered, seeing his eyes rise a moment later. "You need to stay calm. The only way we will be able to get through this is to stay calm."

She began to look at their group, watching all of their faces contort as they thought out a plan. "I do not know why Ramsay took Lady Maia, or found out our location. My guess is that his idiotic guards thought Maia was I and the Umbers are keeping watch on us, so we must be more quiet in our gathering. We now have the Mormonts on our side and we have to move onto the Glovers before they follow us again."

The party nodded quickly as Sansa pointed to the Onion Knight. "Ser Davos, you know the way to Deepwood Motte. I want you and a few men to ride to Winterfell. Do not – I repeat, do not – attack. Wait him out. Once he realizes his guards have done wrong, he'll keep her for a couple hours for intimidation, though I know he'll release her. He'll do it to scare you, but don't attack. The real battle is ahead, and then we'll have Rickon back as well."

Jon gaped at his step-sister, hoping her words were right. Their group nodded their heads until Davos moved to collect a couple men. Sansa was confident. She knew this would work. She knew Ramsay.

Sooner or later, he would get everything that came to him.

•••

The bag was finally ripped from the top of her head as she was thrown to a cold, stone floor. Maia looked up to the two men closing a barred gate in front of her. Sweat coated her forehead as she instantly stood, wringing her hands on the bars and hoping they'd break. "LET ME OUT!" She shrieked.

Maia banged his bloody fists against the bars one more time before sitting down. She wiped the edge of her nose, releasing a sniffle. No, she was not going to cry. She wouldn't give these monsters that sentiment.

"Hello?"

At this point, Maia was sure she was hearing voices. It sounded like a young boy had said it, and yet, there was no one in sight. The greeting repeated, but all she could see was the dripping of water from the ceiling of her cell.

"Over here."

Maia looked to her left, spotting a tiny barred window to the cell next to her. She slid over, peering through the small hole, and to her surprise, a head appeared behind the bars. He was probably a teenager, she guessed, with a head of blonde curls and eyes the color of the sea. His face was covered in dirt, reflecting with the same sheen of sweat that Maia had herself.

"Who are you?" He asked.

"Who are you?" She returned with a lofted brow.

The boy looked away as a guard passed by their cells. He then whispered, "I'm Rickon."

"Stark?" Maia questioned lowly, allowing him to nod. "We've been looking for you this whole time."

Rickon became confused. "We?"

"I was with your siblings, Jon and Sansa, on Bear Island before I was captured. You won't be here much longer, Rickon. They are gathering an army and plan to take back Winterfell." She stuck her hand through the bars. "My name is Maia ... of House Sanders." Just thinking over her statement seemed odd.

They shook hands, but as they both leaned away, Rickon whispered, "I know you have good intentions, Lady Maia, but you don't understand the Boltons. They'll kill us all."

She nodded slowly. "I know, but –"

Footsteps echoed then. A door was opened, letting light into the dark dungeon. Rickon and Maia moved away from each other, and the blonde slid herself into the corner of the damp cell. She covered her eyes with her arms, peaking them over her skin to see a pair of boots stop themselves in front of her bars. She swallowed.

He was a bizarrely handsome man, she'd give him that. He had a mop of dark, blackened waves. His eyes were a wild blue and opened wide in a crazed manner. Dressed head to toe in leather, he approached her cell, unlocking it in one swift motion. He had a man beside him, keeping watch.

"Good evening, my Lady." His eyes laid on her, growing curious as he walked towards her. He knelt before her, picking up a strand of her blonde hair. "I see my men have made a dreadful mistake."

Harald furrowed his brow. "Your guards thought her to be Sansa Stark."

"Well, she is clearly not Sansa Stark." Ramsay spat, glancing to his ally before looking back at the girl in front of him. He watched her grit her teeth. "But she is somebody."

"Who are you?" Maia asked through her teeth.

He chuckled darkly. "Why, I'm Ramsay Bolton, my Lady. Surely, you've heard of me: Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell." He suddenly clasped her chin in his calloused fingers. "And you're Lady Maia of House Sanders. You've been kept in Castle Black since you suddenly dropped here from nowhere."

His friend, Harald, took a step closer into the cell. "I've never heard of House Sanders, my Lord."

"Most would not." Ramsay replied quickly, looking back at Maia. "House Sanders was a fairly small, noble house from the Midlands. Only circulated a tiny village, but they were an honorable house, my father once told me. Then their lord turned idiotic during Robert's Rebellion, and they sided with the Targaryens. They fought within the battle, and just after that, they were completely wiped out. I remember their phrase: To rather burn nor kneel. And so they did." He released a short laugh at the blonde's expense. "Except for this one, perhaps."

Maia narrowed her eyes. "You've been spying."

Ramsay shrugged. "That's one way to put it."

"You threatened to rape me, you fucking monster." She leaned forward, their noses almost touching. "What do you want from me?"

"Particularly nothing, if I'm being frank." He gave his friend at the door a side-eyed glare. "My men thought you to be my wife, but I realized you've been communicating with both Sansa and the bastard brother."

"His name is Jon." Maia snarled, spitting in the man's face before she could stop herself.

Ramsay wiped the bile from his face, continuing his smile. Before she could register the action, his hand whipped across her cheek. "So the rumors are true. Lord Snow retired from the Night's Watch and took a lady. How nice."

Maia held a hand to her cheek, slowly meeting his eyes. Her knuckles cracked, her blood boiled – she wanted to kill him. They stared at each other for a long moment, until she uttered the words, "I'm not scared of you."

"Oh, my Lady, you should be."

He stood, watching as her brows knit in confusion as a sly grin appeared on his face. Ramsay wanted to intimidate – terrify her, perhaps – and he began to undo the knots on his trousers. "So have you sucked the bastard's cock yet, my Lady?"

Harald looked away.

Maia tried burrowing herself in the corner of the cell, shaking her head. "No," she begged as he reached out, "keep your hands away from me."

Ramsay pulled her by the hairs of the top of her head, watching her eyes well up with invisible tears as he inched her closer to his nether region. She tried pushing him back, but to no avail, for her held the top of her head firmly in his tight grip.

Then the bastard started to laugh.

"I'm only joking!" He chuckled loudly – too loud. "I had you fooled completely!"

He grasped her shoulders, pulling her upward from the floor. Maia let out a quiet yip when he touched her. Rickon was at the window again, shouting, "Lady Maia!"

"Shut your mouth, Stark!" Ramsay sneered. He turned back to Maia, feeling the muscles in her arms twist under his grip. His eyes narrowed at her own, but she gave no expression. Without warning, his hands grasped the middle of her dress and he tore it in half, allowing her bare breasts to smother in the open air.

Maia screamed as he pushed her against the wall, feeling his hands massage her chest with calloused fingers. She noticed Harald looking away, no matter how loud she shrieked. She breathed heavily as Ramsay leaned his face close, watching her with his too-blue eyes. "I want you to remember my face," he whispered. "I want you to remember this when the bastard is fucking you all day and night. Remember, Lady Maia."

Her hands balled into fists when she tried pushing him away. She was weak. Her knuckles bled. Her eyes were opened wide, shocking filling them. She wanted to give up. Her nipples hardened at the crisp chill in the air, feeling Ramsay's grip grow more aggressive.

"Women are not toys to be played with. Wolves and girls both have sharp teeth," she managed to reply as her teeth grit. "Best remember that yourself, Lord Bolton."

His hand then lifted from her bareness, and she used this spare second to quickly cover herself with her torn clothes. Her jaw clenched as she stared at him, trying to hold her urge in to lunge at him and shove her fist into his eye twenty times over. He hadn't done what he promised in his letter, per se, but this bastard violated her nonetheless. "You'll pay for this," she whispered lowly, just loud enough for him to hear. "Just wait."

In that moment, Ramsay backed away and gave her a toothy grin. "I think ... I'm going to be nice today."

Maia's face contorted, looking from him to Harald next to the bars. She tugged at her torn bodice and tried covering herself as much as possible. She could almost still feel his hands on her again.

"I'm going to let you go." He gave her a crazed smile. "But I want you to deliver a message."

She felt herself shiver. Her whole body quaked. "What message?"

Ramsay only smirked.

•••

A/N: For those criticizing Maia in this chapter, I write her this way FOR A REASON. If you write a badass OC, they're too perfect. If you write a character like Maia - non-warrior, delicate, and progressive - they're dumb.

This scene was necessary to the arc of the story. This is Westeros, and this is Ramsay's way to torture. Plus, this was just another scene to show how Maia is still so naive to the ways of Westeros. She is used to fighting back with her words against people who try to hold her down, which comes from the type of progressive world she grew up then, but Westeros does not work like that. Women and men are punished when they speak to a noble in bad way, and this is Maia really learning that. She has also never met someone like Ramsay face-to-face, so she would never truly know how to act for their first meeting.

So I just wanted to explain that as another instance! I don't write her this way because I'm trying to make her seem Mary Sue-ish (btw I absolutely HATE that word), but it's her way of learning the ways of Westeros.