[Sansa has not told this to anyone because, truly, who had there been to tell? There had been no comfort within the walls of Winterfell and anyone she might have confided in was certain to become Ramsay's next plaything. She swallows a bit and steels herself for the reaction she's certain to get, telling such a thing. Margaery might not think so kindly of her if she knows.]

They married me to Lord Bolton's legitimized bastard, Ramsay. He...he used me very ill. I only just escaped with something of me left.

[Sansa doesn't know how much longer she could have survived it, knowing that each day brought more and more pain. She's glad to have come to this place where it seems the Iron Throne doesn't have a hold on her any longer.]