Warnings: This episode is a dark one. Violence; blood; talk of rape/sexual assault; non-graphic deaths of animals that may be construed as cruel and unusual. Nothing explicit, but some scenes will be disturbing.

A/N: As most of you know, writing the last of these episodes was my NaNo project this year. I didn't think I was going to make it, but I actually have full first drafts of the last three episodes completed and just needing to be edited. This means posting should be faster (although maybe not for everything that's left). Still, it's looking like this series will be wrapped up by the end of January at the latest. I'm not sure if I should laugh or cry about that…

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Teaser

The days following the downfall of Petyr Baelish and the clearing of Ned Stark's good name go quickly, mainly due to the ongoing media feeding frenzy. The struggle to control the Baratheon estate only seems to intensify once Ned is once again in the fray.

Jaime and Brienne do their best to stay out of the spotlight, but even they are being followed by varysazzi and appear in the tabloids on a regular basis. On the slow days, there's always at least one social media report speculating on the nature of their relationship that quickly devolves into personal insults against Brienne because of the way she looks, and against Jaime because of the questionable ethics of a boss having an affair with their subordinate.

"If they only knew," Jaime murmurs one night after a particularly salacious—and completely false—story hits the entertainment news. "We still haven't made it to the top of the Eyrie, so it certainly wasn't us who got caught in that storeroom…although I guess they have a point about the boss thing."

Brienne rolls over and snuggles against him, sliding her leg over his. "I suppose, technically, I'm your boss." She lifts her head and frowns at him. "Does that make it better?"

He grins, turns off the television, and tosses the remote onto the night stand.

"Well, not to the public at large. Then again, who cares about them? We know what goes on between us." He slides his hand down her back, pulling her closer. "Anyway, I prefer to think of us as a partnership of equals, although in some things, I'm completely yours to command."

She grins as she kisses him.

*/*/*/*/*

They watch WNN over breakfast and listen to the breaking news that Roose Bolton, the Lord of the Dreadfort, has been officially reported missing by his wife, Lady Walda.

Jaime nods at the screen and says, "Do you think that's the work of the Dreadfort Killer, or an admission of guilt?"

Brienne frowns. "Definitely not the Dreadfort Killer," she says. "He murders women, not men. As for admission of guilt...maybe, but probably not. As far as anyone knows, the murders only began a couple of years ago, and he's been Lord for decades. No, he's most likely just run off with a younger woman and will resurface in a couple of days." She shrugs. "He's done it before."

*/*/*/*/*

When Lady Walda Bolton walks into their agency a couple of days later and asks for their help, Jaime thinks he should have seen it coming.

*/*/*/*/*

The Dreadfort is a town, a manor house, a crumbled castle, and a forest, and all of them live up to the name.

Everything is grey and drab, dark and ominous, and Brienne can't help shivering a little as they check into a motel.

"It's your imagination," Jaime says as they walk to their room. "The Dreadfort Killer has put a pall over everything to do with this place, that's all."

Brienne shivers again. "Especially since he's been quiet for too long."

Jaime gives her a half-smile as he closes the door behind them. "And you can't wait to see what you can find out about him, can you?"

Brienne flushes a little then gives him a sheepish shrug. "Can you?"

Jaime grins, and Brienne can't help but laugh.

*/*/*/*/*

They start with canvasing the town to determine when and where Roose Bolton was last seen. The residents are cautious and close-mouthed, and Jaime wonders if they've stepped into the beginning of a horror movie or if the oppressive atmosphere is, as he told Brienne, simply in their imagination, caused by the ever-growing number of dead bodies being found in the area, the majority of whom have not yet been identified.

They learn the Boltons tend to stay to themselves, and from the expressions on the faces of the people they talk to, everyone prefers it that way.

"The Boltons have controlled the Dreadfort for generations," the woman at the diner tells them with a shrug. "It's just the way it is. But that doesn't mean they're part of the town." She glances around the empty diner, then leans closer and lowers her voice anyway. "We like it that way. They're creepy. And their butler, or whatever the fuck he is, is downright disgusting."

Jaime's eyebrow shoots up. "Disgusting how?"

"He reeks."

*/*/*/*/*

They learn what the woman meant when they drive out to the Dreadfort Manor the next day.

The Manor is located behind high, thick walls that enclose both the crumbled remains of the castle and what seems to be a large swathe of forest surrounding the Manor. The Manor itself is three storeys high, u-shaped, and looks innocuous enough. They can hear dogs barking in the distance as they get out of their car and walk up the front steps.

The man who answers the door looks clean enough but the stench that emanates from him is enough to make them both rear back in reaction before they plaster polite smiles on their faces and ask to speak to Ramsay Bolton.

The man surveys them with cold eyes then a slow smile creeps across his face as he says, "Follow me."

*/*/*/*/*

The butler shows them into a den, where they wait for ten minutes. Ramsay Bolton walks in and pauses on the threshold, his startlingly pale eyes are almost lost in his fleshy face and colder than any ice Jaime has ever seen.

Jaime and Brienne rise to their feet and he stares from one to the other and back again in silence before his meaty lips spread into a glistening smile that sends shivers down Jaime's spine.

"The Great Detective Jaime Lannister," he says, his voice a low purr. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Jaime and Brienne exchange a glance, and Jaime suspects that, for once, Brienne doesn't mind that the focus is on him.

"We've been hired by your stepmother to search for your father," Jaime says, but even his practiced charm is showing the strain.

"My stepmother is a silly, hysterical woman," Ramsay says as the door opens again, and his butler carries in a tray laden with a small coffee pot and cups. The man puts the tray down then exchanges nods with Ramsay before he leaves the room, although his stench lingers long after he's gone.

"My stepmother is a silly, hysterical woman," Ramsay says again as he pours and hands them each a cup of coffee, "but my father seems fond enough of her...or mayhaps it's her bank account that he finds so attractive. Still, out of respect for my father, please. Ask your questions."

Jaime and Brienne run through their usual questions, the coffee cooling in front of them.

Ramsay's pale eyes watch them as carefully as they're watching him as he replies to their enquiries with vague responses and no details whatsoever.

"I never reported my sweet father missing because he has a history of disappearing for weeks at a time," he finally says. "My stepmother knows as well; I believe she just wants some attention. Trust me: Father will get in touch when he's ready to come home."

Jaime and Brienne exchange glances, then Brienne says, "Well, thank you for your time, Lord Bolton. We'll be back if—"

Ramsay snaps his fingers, and says, "My father does have places he prefers to go when he's on these...vacations. Wait here while I ask Reek to pull that list together for you."

He's gone before they can even nod.

Jaime and Brienne exchange puzzled looks.

"Reek?" Jaime murmurs. "A sadly accurate real name or a sadistically cruel nickname?"

Brienne rolls her eyes and Jaime chuckles.

"Well, I hope he's quick," Jaime says. "This place gives me the creeps, but I suppose any lead helps."

He blinks, trying to clear the fogginess from his eyes as he tugs against his restraints. For a moment, he's blinded by sheer panic as he struggles, remembering the last time his arms were tied like this—the flash of an arakh, the agony, his screams.

His panic slowly eases and he realizes that no, he's not in that stinking hole in Essos...although he is in a stinking hole, he is restrained, and his right hand is bare and cold without the gold hand covering it. Come to think of it…his entire body is cold.

He frowns and groggily forces his eyes to remain open as he tries to lift his head.

"Ah," a voice purrs just out of his line of sight, "finally awake. I must admit, it took more gas than I expected to knock both you and your strapping companion unconscious. Of course, that wouldn't have been necessary if you would have just drank the fucking coffee."

Fear slices through the mental fog even if Jaime still can't quite connect with his body. "Brienne?" he mumbles.

"The big bitch should be waking soon, too," the speaker says and strolls into Jaime's line of sight. Ramsay Bolton, which isn't a surprise, now that Jaime's mind is starting to work again.

Jaime blinks heavy eyelids and says, "Where is she?"

Bolton shrugs. "Somewhere in the forest. Only Reek knows where, but he knows better than to tell me." His lips are glistening, his eyes glittering with unholy anticipation. "After all, that would take all the fun out of the game, now wouldn't it?"

*/*/*/*/*