Reek felt dizzy, though whether it was from pain or starvation he could not tell. All of his moods and feelings seemed to simply blur into one, as of late. What was hunger to him? What was exhaustion to him? None of it made a difference anymore. Reek was Ramsay's now, and he knew that he must do only what Lord Ramsay wanted, that he must think only thoughts that Lord Ramsay would approve of. Not that anything was good enough for the bastard. No matter how hard Reek tried to please his master, he always ended up with yet another missing finger and the agonising pain that it left behind.
No, he thought, I mustn't think such things. He'll know, somehow, he always knows. Reek tried to calm himself, taking deep breaths, watching the rise and fall of the dogs' chests as they slept. He curled up closer to one of the bitches, desperate for the warmth it offered.
The only reason Ramsay punished him was because Reek was bad. Ramsay was fair; Ramsay was just. If Reek could only stop offending him, he would be treated well, not as if he was a man, obviously, but well for a pet. Ramsay's pet, his creature. Be good, he told himself, be Reek. He had to show his lord that he was loyal, and he had to find a way to prove his earnest fealty.
One of the dogs stirred, its slick nose nuzzling against Reek's bony neck. It was so cold down here with chilly draughts blowing in from all directions and abnormally sized rats chattering sinisterly as they scurried to and fro. The dark, too, was unbearable. Always, it seemed to press in on him, getting closer and closer, as if it wanted to squeeze the life out of him. It didn't want to take his life though, he thought with a shudder. It wanted to take his mind, his identity, and leave him with nothing. "I'm Reek," he whispered shakily. "Reek, Reek, it rhymes with meek."
Reek shivered violently. The darkness wasn't even the worst part about the Dreadfort kennels - it was the loneliness. Down here, Reek had nobody but the hounds to keep him company. At least when he was with Ramsay he could hear the comforting sound of another human voice. With Ramsay, he was safe from the cold and the darkness and the solitude.
He wanted Ramsay there with him, he realised, shocked. He wanted his master to protect him from the vast, cruel nothingness that threatened to devour him. Pressing closer to the dogs, he tried to feel safe and loved, but it was no use. He needed the warmth of another human to soothe him, and that of a dog was a poor substitute at best.
Reek gave a low wail and began to softly cry. This was a new emotion, one that did not seem to fade away as the hunger and weariness always did. It was confusion. Is that what I'm feeling? Confusion? He shivered anew as sobs racked through his frail body. "Make it stop."
It wasn't until much later that sleep finally reached Reek. As he dreamt, the stony interior of the Dreadfort gradually transformed into a windswept beach, littered with sea-smoothed stones and populated by small crabs. On the horizon, Reek spied majestic ships sailing away, full of brave Ironborn men, no doubt. He was home...
"Theon!" a joyful female voice cried, seemingly miles away. Theon, my name. He spun around to see who was calling him and came face to face with Asha. She enveloped him in a hug before he could react. "It's good to have you back, Theon."
"Wait, no!" he exclaimed as a sudden fear attacked him. "You can't call me Theon." He started to slowly back away from his sister, salt water lapping at his feet like the rough lick of a dog's tongue.
There was a strange expression on her face, one that he hadn't seen in what seemed like a lifetime. Pity. Asha pitied him. He used to resent it when people pitied him. He thought he was too good for their sympathy - he had been a fool.
Asha held her hand out to him encouragingly, yet there was resignation on her normally sharp features. "Come with me." As he continued to retreat, she lowered her hand and made one last effort. "Theon, please."
"My name is Reek." He looked down, not wanting to meet the disappointed gaze of his sister. "Reek, Reek, it rhymes with bleak." When he finally looked up, Asha was gone, along with the ships. In her place, Ramsay Bolton stood upright with a smirk. He started to approach Reek, his confident strides making Reek want to run and hide.
"It's time to go, Reek." His words were soft and smooth as velvet, but his eyes flashed with manic glee. Was Reek's lord happy with him? Or was the look of elation due to the impending pain that he was about to inflict?
He licked his lips. "Now." Ramsay clapped a hand down on Reek's gaunt shoulder.
Reek awoke from his dream with a jolt. Light footsteps could be heard echoing on the stairs leading to the kennels. Somebody was coming. Instinctively, Reek shrunk back against the wall and curled into a protective ball. He peered at the doorway and watched, almost fascinated, as Ramsay strode towards him.
"Reek," he called in a mocking, sing-song voice. He was clad all in black today, a rich cloak draped around his well-shaped frame. Stopping by the rusted bars of the cage, he looked down with satisfaction at the broken man before him, his eyes glittering. "I have need of you."
Reek scooted slightly closer. "Of me?"
"Yes, Reek. You." He ran his index finger lightly along on of the bars. The action seemed tantalising. "You see, I'm going on a hunt today and I need someone to carry my things," he explained, the intonation of his voice rising slightly at the end.
Reek nodded seriously and waited with caution to see what Ramsay would do next. It was always impossible to predict what he would do next, and Reek could only pray that he was in a merciful mood. It was strange, but he wanted to please Ramsay, and not just for the simple reason of avoiding torture. He wished to bask in the approval of his master and submit to his will.
"Do you love me, Reek?" Ramsay suddenly asked. He fingered his sheathed knife and momentarily widened his grey eyes with an authoritative half-smile. This was his favourite question to ask lately. Almost everyday now, he asked, and if the answer wasn't convincing enough... Reek didn't want to think about it.
He averted his eyes and opened his mouth to answer, but he was unable to get the words out. He had said it so many times before; he had perfected the saying so that Ramsay was hardly ever dissatisfied. Blood rushed to his cheeks and bashfully, he murmured, "yes, M'lord." Even as he said it, Reek knew that "yes" was not enough to appease him. He scrunched his eyes shut as a tight knot formed in his starved stomach. Any minute, his skin, sallow and scratched, would come into contact with the hard metal of Ramsay's knife. Instead, there was silence. Reek opened his eyes with apprehension.
With what could only be described as interest, Ramsay was staring at him. No sadistic smile lit up his features, no inhumane anger hid behind a calm exterior. His mouth was slightly opened, his eyes firmly fixed on Reek. Wordlessly, he unlocked the cage.
Finally, he spoke. "You really do, don't you?"
Reek nodded quickly. "Of course, M'lord! You are good and kind to me, how could I not?" He gabbled on, desperate to make up for his stupid mistake. If he could just talk enough, perhaps he would be forgiven. "I love you, I promise!"
To Reek's misfortune, it seemed to have the opposite effect. The more Reek prattled on and on, the more enraged Ramsay seemed to grow. In a fit of fury, Ramsay whipped out his knife and held it to Reek's throat, his other hand clutching madly at his pet's wispy hair.
"Be quiet!" he yelled from behind clenched teeth. He glared, his breathing heavy, whilst Reek whined and wailed. "Be quiet or I'll hunt you today instead. How would you like that? Hm?" He punched Reek in the face with his full force.
Though face felt like it was on fire, Reek said nothing for fear of Ramsay's wrath. There were worse things than a bruised face. He moved towards Ramsay uncertainly. It made no sense to him, yet he felt an intense need to be near his master. Why should I want to be close to the very man who wants to hurt me?
When Reek dared to look at Ramsay, most of the anger seemed to have drained from his face. All his expression offered now was reproach. "Follow me. We're going hunting."