Sansa is not a warrior, she is not promiscuous, she is not flamboyant, she does not have a rare gift and therefore the majority of the fandom refuses to recognise her importance, her achievements, her progress, her maturity, her wisdom, her sensibility, her authenticity, her loyalty, her diplomacy, her shrewdness, her concern for others, her femininity.
Her demure ways are used to not only underestimate her, but as a reason to hate on her. Because she is a passive character in an agressive plot. And while most think this is a weakness, I find it amazing! Why her character was created, why she’s still there, it means something.
Even within the show she is constantly reminded that she is not as strong or as worthy as her siblings.
None of the other Stark kids saw their father be beheaded and be forced to stare at his head on spike. None of them lived under Cersei’s watch. None of them were used as she was. Her wolf was the first one to be taken away (brutally unfairly btw). She has never killed. None of them suffered the amount of psychological, physical, moral, sexual violence she has. No one has been betrayed as she was. Not even Jon. Jon at least has some he could and can call friends. Arya moved by herself, Bran was guided throughout all his journey. Sansa was thrown and exchanged in the hands of several people like a toy.
She has all the reasons to become a vengefull brat, like so many are rooting for her to reveal herself as. But what differs her from Cersei and even from Marjaery is her natural and uncurruptable purity. She is a lost girl, tormented by the ghosts of the men who violated her and haunted by the shadow of that disgusting Littlefinger, who she understands is valuable, even though he was the one who sold her to a psycopath. But she remains strong and she remains aware. She knows when it’s time to take risks and she takes them. Sansa is the one who saved Winterfell.
But people continue to condemn her for foolish mistakes she made as a child.
Say what you will, but I call this plain old misogyny.
You seem to hate Dany so much for burning people alive, for burning Randyll and Dickon, but Saint Sansa fed Ramsay to his own hounds, she let them eat him alive. I'd say Sansa is even more sadistic than Dany, don't you think? She's taking the killing route as well, she's killed Littlefinger too, so stop criticizing Dany, when you're favorite is doing the exact same things as her.
Are you honestly comparing Sansa executing Ramsay and Littlefinger, to D@ny murdering Randyll and Dickon, just because ya know, she can? Like, really?
Sansa is NOT sadistic, and she’s NOT taking the killing route lol what? She doesn’t enjoy killing people, it doesn’t make her feel powerful, nor good, like her father, It doesn’t give her joy.
Sansa is NOTHING like D@ny, they couldn’t be more different.
Ramsay raped, beaten, and tortured Sansa in unimaginable ways, everyday, for months. And Littlefinger, he was not only the man who caused all the tragedies and horrors that have befallen her family, he was also the one who gave her to the Boltons, he was the one to blame for what Ramsay did to her.
So, she had every right and reason to execute them both.
But D@ny? NO. Randyll never wronged her in any way, apart from refusing to bend the knee, same for Dickon. Make no mistake, I agree that Randyll was an absolute d*ck, he truly was. He treated Sam horribly, but still, burning someone alive simply because they don’t want to kneel to you, because they don’t want to give their country to you, a foreign invader, is fu*ked up.
And Dickon, she had no reason to burn alive a young boy/man, even Tyrion advised her against it, but she couldn’t help herself, burning people alive with her dragons makes her feel good, it makes her feel powerful, having that power, having 3 weapons of mass destruction makes her feel special. She enjoys watching people burn, we’ve seen this on more than one occasion.
So, even though neither Randyll nor Dickon never personally wronged her, nor hurt her, the way Sansa was hurt by Littlefinger and Ramsay, she still chose to roast them alive.
Sansa had every reason to kill Ramsay, he was a sick, twisted psychopath, and personally I think she brought justice not just for herself, but also for all the other women he raped, for all the other people that he tortured, tormented, beaten, skinned alive, for the poor souls that he terrorized, that he played with, that he hunted and used as prey in the woods, for his own sick, twisted amusement.
He used his hounds to hunt those poor souls down, and then he fed them to them after the “hunt” was over, so I think it was quite poetic justice that she fed him to his own hounds. She pretty much avenged everyone he’s ever hurt, herself included.
And Littlefinger, another psychopath, in his own way another monster. With his actions, his calculated schemes, he brought so many houses to their downfall; the The Tyrells, the Baratheons, the Lannisters, even the Starks. He was like a disease, just like Cersei. If Sansa hadn’t executed him, he would’ve ended up destroying her family for good.
So again, NO. Sansa is NOT sadistic. When she executed Littlefinger, she cried, she wasn’t happy about having to take a life, about executing someone. With Ramsay, there was a glimpse of a smile, yes, but after all he did to her, can you blame her for faintly smiling when bringing justice for herself, for the first time in her life? Can you blame her for smiling at the realisation that, he’ll never hurt her ever again, that his house is dead, that he’s dead, that she’ll never have to see his face again, nor hear his voice ever again? Can you blame her, for ending the life of a monster whom tortured her, beaten her and raped her? For punishing the man who tried to break her and whom hurt her everyday, in unimaginable ways? For finally taking her destiny into her own hands, after years of being captive, after years of being powerless? After years of having no control over her own life? After years of being used, and used, and lied to, by everyone, always? No, you can’t blame her. She smiled, because it was a victory, her abuser, a monster, was dead, because there is justice in the world after all, the monsters don’t always win, the worst ones don’t always live, because in that moment, she realised there’s hope. And NOT because she suddenly turned psychotic, or sadistic, or whatever the hell you’re trying to say.
Littlefinger had hurt so many people with his machinations and his obsession for power and the Iron Throne. He hurt her, her father, her mother, he hurt her family, he was dangerous man, and it was her duty to stop him from further hurting those she loved, and yet, she felt sorry/pity for him.
She even says it herself “'It’s not what I want, it’s what honor demands.”, Sansa is neither sadistic, nor a murderer. It pained her to have to take his life, to execute him, but it had to be done, for everyone’s safety, because it was the only option, and because it was the right thing, the honorable thing to do. She was teary throughout the whole scene. She’s not heartless. No matter what she’s been through, she’s remained kind hearted, she still feels remorse, has emotions, empathy.
“It was his (Ned’s) duty, he never liked it.”
We can’t say the same about D@ny though, you can clearly see she enjoys watching people burn alive, especially in season 5, 6 and 7. As I’ve said, it makes her feel powerful, and she feels like she’s in the right too, while she’s doing it. No resentment in her eyes, no compassion, no empathy, no nothing.
She loves power, she is obssesed with it, she wants everyone to worship her, and those who refuse to worship her, she burns.
Burning Randyll and Dickon alive, was neither honorable, nor the right thing to do, nor the only option, she could’ve imprisoned them, she could’ve imprisoned at least Dickon, but she chose to roast them both alive all the same.
Think TWICE, before comparing Sansa executing Ramsay and Littlefinger with D@ny (murdering) executing Randyll and Dickon.
Both of Sansa’s executions of Ramsay and Littlefinger were justified and needed, whilst D@ny’s “execution” of Randyll and Dickon, was bloody NOT, it was completely unnecessary. She roasted them alive, because she could, because she felt like it.
Life gets hard in Westeros; for some more than others. But when it gets so bad where you have to pretend, is it worth it? Would you keep pretending?
(Words : 1342)
Ramsay is a warning in and of himself…
You normally dreaded the mornings; the dawning of a new day only brought more death, more torture. That misery seemed to surround you, wrapping along the stone-brick walls of Winterfell. It’s roots were buried in the dark heart of Ramsay Snow.
Ramsay Bolton now, but the same person remains under the changed name. He was such a vile creature that he murdered his own father, brother, and step mother in cold blood. You heard the baby’s cries from the kennels as Ramsay, your husband, walked away with a satisfied smirk resting on his elfish features. That same, twisted grin met you at your bedroom door.
That night had been no different from the rest. Ramsay forcing himself on you, no different from the night before. The boyish, cheery man you thought you once knew on your wedding day, gone; devoured by a hunger for control and power. By the time you woke in the morning, Ramsay would, normally, be long gone; off hunting, scheming more like. His absence would give you time to cry silently, wish for better things, and wonder how a man like Ramsay Bolton could live with himself after all the had done. You had come to the conclusion that the bastard simply lacked the feelings and sensitivity of a normal man, or being in general; but there were times he’d simply throw your theories and speculations to the side. For while that was the pattern he often followed, there were mornings where Ramsay lingered. Mornings like this one.
You woke to a feeling of warm pressure against your chest. A tickling sensation skirted up from your exposed collarbone, grazing softly at your jaw. Slowly opening your eyes, you were met with a familiar head of brown hair a mere inches from your face. Ramsay’s sky blue eyes landed on your face, locking with your own eyes.
“Good morning my sweet wife,” he said lowly, his voice putting on a facade of softness that suited the early morning light that shone through the windows. He ducked his head down again, pressing kisses to the lightly bruised skin of your neck. You were unused to this sort of affection from Ramsay, so you simply closed your eyes again and wondered what games he was playing.
“Good morning to you as well, my love,” you whispered. You silently prayed that your words were convincing enough to win you out of any rough relations later on. Ramsay hummed softly against your throat and the feeling sent a wave through your body; a thrill, maybe.
“It’s a fine morning indeed,” he said, lifting his head once more to look into your eyes. If you tried hard enough, you could almost pretend that the man above you actually cared. That, with your chests pressed together, you shared the same heart that was tied together underneath the old wierwood tree. The thought nearly brought you to tears.
“Do you think, we could stay in today?” Your voice nearly cracked as you spoke. Ramsay gave you a quizzical look, cocking his head like a newborn pup. “Or at least an hour more,” you added, trying to climb out of the hole you dug yourself; but if you could just pretend a little while longer, it might just save you. Save you from what, that you were unsure of. Perhaps your own self-destruction or Ramsay’s always changing, tormented demeanor.
“Hmmm,” Ramsay turned his head downwards in thought. You felt his chilled fingers dance along your upper arm, trailing to your shoulders. His touch sent shivers down your spine and part of you longed to roll away, be freed of his oddly delicate touch. “I think,” he said, moving his fingers to your face, “a few more hours would do the House no harm.”
A relieved, soft breath escaped your lungs. Ramsay smiled a little at the sound; but not his same crooked grin that you had been witness to in his cruelest moments. His fingers brushed against your cheeks in a tender manner, which scarred you even more than when he was coarse in bed. His change in behavior was toying with your hopes; that maybe one day you could be happy, or in the very least, safe.
“Thank you, my Lord,” you hushed and Ramsay hummed in response. Despite your marriage, you knew he preferred to be called ‘Lord’ rather than being addressed by name. The word reminded him of the authority, the superiority, he had won.
“There is no need to thank me, Y/N,” you shuddered at the use of your name, “my wife needs attention. House Bolton will still prevail without my leadership for a few hours.” You offered him a gracious smile, hoping it looked true; at least half of it was. Ramsay leaned his head forward a little more, peppering kisses against your jawline.
Your hands moved after a few pecks against your skin. One of your hands went to Ramsay’s hair, tangling your fingers in his brown locks. Your other hand rested against the surprising warm skin of his bare back. The moment his lips traced over a bruise, your fingertips dug into the soft flesh of his shoulder. Ramsay chuckled, his breath tickling your sensitive skin. He pulled away from your neck and looked into your eyes. Mischief lingered in his gaze, causing your blood to rise slightly; but Ramsay seemed unfazed.
“You are beautiful,” Ramsay whispered, his small grin fading slightly from his lips. You moved your hand from his hair, gently cupping his face. The stubble on his cheeks and chin tickled the skin of your palm. The simple touch sent a flutter through the bastards heart; he wasn’t used to such tender touches. He thought of every angle you could be playing, trying to use him in some way. Much to his own amazement, he couldn’t think of anything. Perhaps that was what you were trying to do; distract him from over analyzing and planning how to keep you.
If that was indeed your plan, it worked. Ramsay started pretending along with you. Pretending that he had done nothing wrong and that you loved him as he loved you. The next passing hours were spent in near silence; with only the feeling of each other’s hands, playing softly on the other’s skin, to warm you. After the light through the windows shifted, casting larger shadows in the room, Ramsay got up.
You watched as he dressed, silently wishing your could pretend with him just a little longer. Ramsay looked up at you once he had pulled on his trousers. You gave him a lighthearted smile, one which he returned as best as he could.
“When I return from my meeting with Lord Karstark,” he started, pulling his shirt on over his head. “We should go for a ride. We have the finest stallions as you know.” Your smile got a little bigger at the thought of continuing this farce; and as Ramsay struggled to tie his armor.
You slowly got up, wrapping a blanket around yourself, hiding your naked body. You walked over, arms extending towards Ramsay’s shoulders. His hands fell away as you tied his armor to his clothes. He let out a pleased sigh when you had switched to his other shoulder.
“A ride on this fine day seems a wonderful idea,” you whispered. Your fingers worked the strings into strong knots, ensuring Ramsay’s protection. You backed a step away, marveling at your work. Ramsay smiled at you, but it lacked his normal wickedness. Maybe pretending has done you both some good, in regards to behavior.
“Thank you, my dear,” he said softly. Ramsay leaned forward, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I will see you later in the day.” He grabbed your hand giving it a light squeeze, before he walked towards the door. He left the room without another word. You turned your head to the window, peering out at Winterfell. If you could pretend to love, share affection with Ramsay Bolton, maybe, just maybe, you could be some sort of happy.
Request: Could you do a part 2 to the ‘caged’ Ramsay bolton imagine where she misses him so she comes back and he treats her super well? And like very fluffy and he’s super happy to see her (even though it’s Ramsay and he would never be that sweet irl) ANDOooooh I loved the Caged fic! Could you possibly write a sequel in which the reader and Ramsey meet again and this time they have a happy ending? ;-;
Months passed and still Ramsay could not fill the emptiness in his heart. No matter how many times he slept with other women, no matter how much he tortured people or killed others, the hole in his heart ached. He knew what the cure was but he also knew he couldn’t have it.
Ramsay was lying in his bed, his arms were folded behind his head as some wench lay draped across his body. The cold Northern air sent shivers through her body but Ramsay didn’t flinch; he had felt much colder things. There was a loud knock on the door, it echoed around the room, Ramsay exhaled a sigh, “What?”.
“M’lord Bolton, you have a visitor”, the guard called from behind the door. Ramsay frowned to himself, he pushed the young girl off his body and swung his legs over the bed. Mumbling angrily to himself, he swept up his breeches and threw his legs into them. “What?”, he snapped as he flung open the door, “Send them away”. The guard fumbled nervously with his weapon which was strapped across his waist, “B-But my l-lord, it i-is Lady (Y/N)”.
The Lord Bolton almost didn’t believe his guard as he made his way swiftly to the main hall where you were situated. His boots thudded on the ground like thunder as he made his way through the Winterfell castle, he hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt for he was too concentrated on making his way to you. Ramsay had never felt such a strong mix of emotions before: in his stomach there fluttered a thousand butterflies while in his heart he could feel his heart throb.
Favorite Moment of Every Episode | Season Three Episode Three | Walk of Punishment
Every episode that has Ramsay in it, the favorite moment from those particular episodes will involve…Ramsay. Just a heads up and fair warning for everyone. ;)
So this episode in the Ramsay plotline features Theon trying to get back to the Iron Islands but as we all know, Ramsay likes to fuck around so he sends more men after him, then pretends to be nice by shooting them all down and “rescuing” Theon.
It involves some really yummy shots of Ramsay riding a horse and expertly using a bow and arrow. ;)
But my favorite part is when he helps Theon up off the ground and tells him WINTER IS COMING. Okay, WINTER IS COMING is like, my fucking catchphrase, I have a WINTER IS COMING window sticker on my car I shit you not, and I’m a Stark bitch at heart so like yeah, I love it. Plus, only a handful of people in the show actually say this line, most of them Starks for obvious reasons, but RAMSAY IS ONE OF THEM. My precious bastard. :D
To the traitor and bastard Jon Snow. You allowed thousands of wildlings past the Wall. You have betrayed your own kind. You have betrayed the North. Winterfell is mine, bastard. Come and see. Your brother Rickon is in my dungeon. His direwolf’s skin is on my floor. Come and see. I want my bride back. Send her to me, bastard, and I will not trouble you or your wildling lovers. Keep her from me and I will ride north and 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 your sister. You will watch as my dogs devour your wild little brother. 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