Sansa Stark had her revenge.
After Jon's victory at Winterfell, after the Starks took over their ancient Keep, it was time for Sansa to finally ensure tables were turned on her tormentor.
The Starks once more inhabited Winterfell. Not as prisoners, but as the true protectors of the North.
Now, finally back at her family's lands, she'd be able to break the endless cycle of abuse she had been forced to endure since her father's untimely demise.
And her revenge, cruel and cold-blooded, was against none other than Ramsay Bolton. Joffrey Baratheon was dead now, and Cersei Lannister too far from her reach.
But Ramsay was her prisoner, and he underestimated her as they all did before him.
Ramsay's mistake had been to allow himself to think he had broken Sansa in the same way he had destroyed Theon's spirits.
It was true Theon was now little more than the shadow of the man she had once been, but the same was not true in her case.
He was wrong, and Sansa experienced not a single ounce of guilt as he died, devoured by his hounds.
Ramsay Bolton deserved every single excruciating second, every single bite, and Sansa remained there, staring at his death until he was nothing but bones.
Finally, after all these years, she was safe. Far from Joffrey's grip and Ramsay's cruel taunts. She was protected by her bannermen, those who had reaffirmed their alliance to House Stark.
Sansa Stark was home, and she'd be Lady of the North, for as long as she shall live.