So I found this just sitting on my computer. Fancy that. I'm really busy, so I'm so sorry I haven't been able to update. But here's a peace offering.

Basically this was how I so desperately wanted Sansa and Ramsay to go. Alas, we can't always get what we want. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy.

M Rating: Strong Language and mention of rape.

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones.

My Heart Wants Blood

...

Gone is the little girl with bright eyes, head filled with useless fairy tales and happily ever afters with handsome princes. That selfish, stupid little girl died the moment Joffrey took her father's head. The world, once beautiful, exciting and filled with adventure, became this black hole of pain and misery. No matter what she did, she couldn't find a way out of the nightmare.

Joffrey was cruel, plain and simple. She didn't understand his cruelty. Where had her handsome, sandy hair prince gone? He had been so charming, gentle and kind. For the longest time she blamed herself. Her father was a traitor, so of course Joffrey hated her, she had come from bad blood after all. She tried her hardest to prove that she was always loyal to her King, her one true love, but it only seemed to harden his heart against her more.

With Joffrey's death and her escape with Little Finger, she finally had begun to understand. She had been a lost, little dove thrown into a snake's pit. She knew she had to play the game, but still wasn't sure of the rules. Even with her lessons with Little Finger, she still naively believed in fairy tales, that one day, a handsome prince would come to save her.

And a prince did claim her, Ramsay Bolton gave her home back to her. He also gave her bruises, tearing, and a new type of cruelty as he defiled the last shred of innocence. She had bled for days. Her cries meant nothing, her tears meant nothing, and when he finally grunted, spilling his seed into her, she silently screamed at the gods. What had she done to deserve this?

Ramsay is a monster, and she is nothing more than an animal to be kicked, fucked and toyed with for his pleasure. She hates it. Lannisters, Boltons, no matter where she went, she's always the weak one. As much as she hates Ramsay, she hates Cersei the most, it was her and her horrid son who did this. If not for them, she would still be fighting with Arya and being scolded by her mother, instead, she's bathing in blood tinged water scrubbing her skin raw to remove all traces of him.

She scrubbed until her skin chaffed off and finally breaks. All of her self pity began to morph and change into one singular emotion, rage. She wants them all to suffer, to pay for her pain, for the damage done to her body and psyche. She wants revenge. She wants Cersei Lannister dead.

It should shock her, seeing the body of her handmaiden skinned alive, but it's not the trauma of it that shakes her. There's Ramsay, staring at her with his demonic eyes, mouth twisted into a sadistic grin, and she feels…

Exhilarated?

She looks hard at him, really looks at him. His dark eyes narrow at her lack of expression, confused by her reaction. She grabs his hand and it's rough, which is no surprise, she's more than well acquainted with those hands. She wonders now how many men he's killed with those hands of his as she lightly caresses the skin.

"I want the Lannister's dead," she speaks softly and his eyes widen some. "I want them dead and Cersei's head hand delivered on a pike to me."

He smirks. "Tsk, tsk, I only reward good behavior, my beautiful Wife. Not only a day has passed since Reek confessed your intention to leave me."

His hand caresses her face.

"You are correct. I did plan to leave you," she confesses. Her voice is devoid of emotion.

His hand caresses down her face to her throat, choking her.

"Truth is Dear Husband," she spits hoarsely. "You need my name and I need your brutality. You said so yourself, bastards can make a name for themselves."

He roughly pulls her closer. "And what makes you think I care about your wants?"

"Because we want the same things you and I. Your father will never look at you the way he looks at his newborn son. You are a bastard and I am a woman."

"And what, pray tell, do you expect me to about it?" His eyes gleam.

Blood. She wants to see the streets run red with it.

"I say," She says grabbing his shirt, pulling his close. "We kill them all."

His eyes glint with sadistic madness. He grabs her hand and drags her back to their quarters. He throws her on the bed, ripping her dress to shreds. This will hurt, she knows this. But she hurts him in return, and now she's making a different kind of love, the only kind of love they know how to share. And there's this freedom in embracing the pain, giving and receiving.

She's in Hell now, she realizes as she looks into his black eyes. And yet, for the first time, she realizes, that if she plays the game right, he'll burn the world to ashes for her.

He may not be the prince she desired before her life turned to shit. But it seems fitting now.

She's in Hell.

And now she's the goddamn Queen.

As always, thank you for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts!