Her thighs were painted red with blood and darkening bruises by the time he rolled off of her, her once tearful eyes now blank and emotionless. He stared up at the ceiling with the same smug, arrogant look. "Shouldn't be long now." He said out loud and she frowned. "It took eight moons last time and I hope it takes twice as long this time." She mumbled, turning away from him. "I heard a rumour that Marcellus armies are going after Winterfell before you can get to it."
He regarded her with interest. "Is that so? Quite stupid of them, to be frank. I'm going to flay those I find at Winterfell, and where the iron-born scum are is first to go. And you'll watch as they scream too. Might teach you a lesson or two about your place."
She stiffened. "I know my place. I'm nothing more than a mare, a vessel for you to create your heirs in. I understand, Ramsay, but I don't like that or you, for that matter. I hope Marcellus armies do get Winterfell, and I hope my brothers place your head on a pole. That would be a lifetime of names days rolled into one." She sneered, an uncontrollable anger spreading though her like fire.
A smirk twisted his face. "And perhaps I'll give you Nathanial's head instead after I've peeled his flesh from his bones. You can't and won't win this war, Callidora. I have a reputation as a Bolton to uphold."
"You might of been legitimatized, but in my eyes, you'll forever be a Snow, not a Bolton." She jabbed at one of his weak points and he glared at her with venom unlike she'd ever seen before -it actually scared her quite a bit. "Is that so? One can't control his heritage or birth circumstances, Callidora. But I can control the heirs that you'll birth for me. Within a few years of their first breath, you'll be gone, your memories will be gone and I will raise them how I see fit."
She glowered at him. "You're a cruel, awful man and people like you don't win." She choked out and he smirked wider before plunging the room into darkness. "But this one will."
It was strange, having been with child and now not with such. Maester Wolkan would've been able to have an inkling as to what she was having from how she carried the said child by now, had the woman -Kira- not poisoned her tea. Something struck her as odd though. Kira had no access to her breakfast when it was being brought up, and she'd certainly never seen her before the time in the woods.
Strange.
She read the tome silently, balancing the large book on her bruised knees. Now she wasn't pregnant, he cared little for the pain she endured during his assaults of her body. He just used her like a steed would a mare.
A soft sigh left her sore lips. It was darkening outside and he would be here soon. She dreaded these times. It was a gamble, really. He could be in a somewhat pleasant mood and he wouldn't hurt her as much as he did, or he could be in a foul mood and paint her thighs with red blood and purple, almost black bruises. It was just a gamble, a game she didn't like.
And sure enough, not even an hour later, those heavy booted footsteps echoes down the corridor along with the mocking clanking of the door keys. She didn't bother to look up as he walked in, her eyes skimming over the ancient, handwritten pages of a senile woman's babbling. "Must you bore me so?" He drawled and she hummed. "If I didn't, life wouldn't be interesting, would it? Whose poor life did you take now? You seem more cheerful of sorts than usual."
He smirked. "I flayed a troublesome lord who wouldn't pay his taxes and then I raped his daughter. I had a good day."
Her lip curled in disgust at how proudly he admitted both, the latter more than the former. "And what did you do with the poor girl afterwards?" She asked calmly and he tugged her chin up so she was looking at him. "None of your concern, Callidora. What are you busying yourself with then? Another sorrowing journal of ones woes?"
"Does it matter? I'm keeping myself occupied and I'm not bothering you. You win either way." She replied slowly and he smirked a little darker. "I'm about to keep you occupied for the rest of the evening." He glanced back at the table and her barely eaten dinner. "And you haven't eaten."
She tugged herself from his grasp and walked over to the open window that overlooked the courtyard. "Last time I ate something, or drank it for that matter, I was poisoned and you lost your first heir. Can you blame me for not wanting to eat something delivered to this room? It might be belladonna next time, who knows. And Kira didn't have access to my breakfast, did she?"
He had been walking over to her but paused at that. "No, come to think of it, she didn't." He gripped her wrist, none to gentle either, and turned her to face him. "Did you have someone slip that tonic into it?" He asked in a low and dangerous voice.
Before she had a chance to think about the consequences and before he could react and stop her, her hand slapped across his face. "I would never kill a child!" She snapped, eyes brimming with painful tears as her bottom lip quivered weakly. "I mightn't of wanted to be pregnant with your child, but that wouldn't give me cause to kill it! I'm not you."
Burning blue eyes looked at her and he grabbed her throat, slamming her head against the wall. "I wouldn't do that again, Callidora. One might just press a little too hard," he demonstrated and she spluttered as he did so, her fingernails digging into his hand and drawing blood as a result of such. The sight of the red fluid made a cruel smile adorn his face and he flexed his hand around her throat, letting her get some air to her lungs.
"A broken neck might happen it I were to increase the force. Maybe that's how I'll kill you in the end." He mused and she gripped his wrist. "Is this how you feel powerful because you'll always be second best to your father?" She choked out and he dropped her, her trembling hand immediately coming up to massage her no doubt soon bruised throat.
"Maybe you'll find out how a broken neck feels a lot sooner than expected if you keep up this insolent attitude. I won't stand for it, Callidora. I might like a good fight, but that doesn't mean I want one from you every time you open that pretty mouth of yours. Maybe I should show you how it'll be used if you disrespect me." He quipped, wiping the blood from the back of his hand with a dark smile. So she was capable of violence then.
"But the tonic in the tea? I would never do that." She gasped out, eyes watering still. She wiped her tears from her red cheeks and moved her red hair over her shoulder. "Killing an innocent child who didn't ask to be here? I defended my castle from murderers and rapists, not innocent children. I could never kill a child." She whispered as she steadied her breathing.
He studied her for a moment before crouching beside her. His injured hand gripped her chin so she was looking at him. "And you didn't have a brother of yours smuggle something in, did you?" He pressed and she shook her head slowly. "Apart from that letter that I didn't answer, I haven't had contact with them at all as much as I would love to. I haven't spoken, seen or read a letter from them since the last letter someone smuggled in from them, I swear." She swore and he raised a brow. "And if I were to have some of my boys search this room?"
"They'd find nothing other than what is meant to be here and what you know is here. I'm not lying. Lying just brings me more pain than I want."
He seemed to be satisfied somewhat with her answer for he gave her a quick, studious look and then straightened himself, pulling her up and he gripped her chin once more. "If I find out you're lying to me, Callidora, these night encounters will be the least of your worries. Do you understand? And on the subject of such an encounter, I came up here to ask you to attend a feast tomorrow, a beforehand celebration of sorts as we ride for Moat Cailin at sunrise afterwards. It would be rude not to ask you to join me, after all."
He spoke with the mockery of a young lord and she resisted the urge to sneer at him. How rude of him? He was jesting, correct? "And I'm to be grateful to be out of this prison you call your chambers, correct?" She sighed and turned her back to him, looking at the small flurries of snow that were coming through the window.
A hand gripped her red hair and teeth scraped over her jugular. "Quite right, my dear, dear wife." He breathed while reaching for the ties of her nightgown. She just stared out of the window at the melting snow, her eyes blank as he pulled her hips back slightly. If only she could be outside in that pureness than in this prison of a room, she would be the most grateful person in the world.
He didn't spare her at all, and she sensed it was partly because of the fact she'd been slightly, well, mostly disrespectful to him. He marred her once flawless skin with teeth marks and he darkened her hips with dark purple splotching bruises. He seemed to be taking his annoyance and irritation out on her, painting her skin with painful marks as he moved a little more harder, fresh, pain filled winces ripping from her lips as he showed her other places that could be torn. Tears blurred her eyes at that point and she sobbed, his answering grin making her cry all the more.