*Author Note* Hi, readers and fans. I'm just leaving this here as an indication to you that the next few chapters will act as if they were the ending chapters of a book. The chapters will all be still uploaded to this story, but it will be split into three acts, sort of. This next set of 5/6 chapters brings the first act to an end, which has been used to establish some new key players, and to show the direction some characters are taking. After this act has finished the arcs of characters will start to collide more, as will happen in the actual story. Thanks for all the continued support to all the people who read my series regularly, and welcome to any new readers. I hope you enjoy, and thank you. *End of Note*
She was crouched in the corner of the darkness. The floor was damp from her own piss, and stank wher she had shit. They brought her food once a day, but nobody came to clean her pen out. She could hear the sniffing of the hounds nearby to her, and the sound of them mating and growling in the night. Every now and again she saw the light of day when the one they called Ben Bones came to feed them.
It was him that brought her meals. She never saw his face, but he would slip the raw meat underneath the door. A bowl of water would follow, and she would have to lap it up. She had refused to eat the meat the first few days, but then Ramsay had come to her, and told her what happened to his pets that did not eat. From then on she had done anything Ben Bones told her.
Her master himself had come to see her three times in the three weeks that she had been here. He had spent the first day here, back when she defied him, back when her pen didn't stink. He had shaved her of her hair then. He had used a sharp knife and removed it from everywhere. He had shaved her head first, then her arms, then her cunt. He had taken care of it, telling her that his hounds had to be unblemished.
He had given her the collar on the second day. Ben Bones had made it for her, and Ramsay had said that she had to wear it at all time. She had resisted him when he tried to put it around her neck. He had slapped her for that. The pain had subsided after a while, but not quickly.
She wore the collar even now. It tightened around her throat if she moved too fast. As a result, she spent most of her days in the corner not full of shit.
They had taken her clothes too. It had been Damon-dance-for-me and Sour Alyn that had stripped her when they had arrived. They had taken her twice whilst Ramsay was gone, but she had heard him shout at them for that. He had said that men shouldn't fuck dogs, no matter how pretty they were. He had said that they were both too good for her.
She missed her robes. They would have protected her bare skin from the scratchy hay that she was forced to sleep upon.
The third time he had come to her was to tell her that Selyse was dead. He had stayed no more than a few minutes that day, as her pen had stank from a weeks worth of piss and shit. She hadn't cried at the news. Selyse had wailed for most of the journey to Winterfell. She had cost them meals and water. She had made the suffer.
He had also told her that Axell Florent, Selyse's uncle, had been sent south to King's Landing, under the watchful guard of some loyal Bolton men. She cared little for Axell. He was a smug man obsessed with a sense of power. He called himself the Queen's Hand. He was no more loyal to the Lord of Light than his brother had been.
The Lord of Light. She had been thinking a lot about him down here. She was surrounded by darkness, and yet he sent her no signal. He had left her alone. He had taken Shireen and Selyse and then just left her here. Where was Stannis? Where was Jon Snow? One of them had to come for her. One of them had to save her from the darkness and the ice cold eyes of her captor.
How could she put her faith into a god that treated her the way that her god had done. He had given her to Ramsay. Maybe that was part of his plan. Maybe she had to suffer as part of the process for Azor Ahai to come forward. Maybe... But still, what kind of plan would have his loyalest servant treated like little more than a pregnant bitch. That was all that Ramsay saw her as. She was one of his dogs, but one he didn't want to touch or take outside.
Her thoughts on her faith were interrupted when she heard clanking from outside the door. It opened, and she saw Sour Alyn stood before her. He was dressed in dirty rags, and had a knife strapped to his belt. He would use it. She knew he would.
"You don't 'alf stink, bitch."
He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Alyn had a square head and rotting teeth. His breath stank, although she couldn't detect it over the stench of her own piss and shit. She looked down at the ground. She had been told not to look her visitors in the eyes unless specifically asked to.
"Look at me."
She looked up, and found her captor leering down at her. She knew that Alyn was just one of Ramsay's men, but he terrified her. He was a cruel, sadistic monster. She had seen him laughing at the tears of Devan Seaworth on their way to Winterfell. He had hung the ear that Ramsay had removed from Axell around his neck. He was a monster.
"What do you see, bitch?"
She wasn't sure how to respond to the question. She stayed silent.
"I asked you what you see. Who am I?"
"Sour Alyn-"
He smacked her around the head, and sent her flying to the floor. When she turned over she found him standing over her.
"I am your master, bitch. Everyone in this castle is your master, and they should be able to do whatever they like with you. I don't give a shit what Ramsay says. I want to rut you so hard you will have to crawl around your miserable cell for weeks after."
She tried to crawl away from him, but she wasn't fast enough. She could feel his coarse hands grab her by the legs and raise her from the ground. He held her to him in one arm, and unbuttoned his belt with the other, lowering his garments to the ground and revealing his member to her. She hadn't seen it last time he had taken her. He had done it from behind that day.
She could smell it's stench from here. It reeked off piss and sweat. He clearly didn't have chance to change his clothes very often. She rankled at it, and tried to pull away, but his grip was just too strong. He had her.
As he started to lower her towards his cock, she realised that the Lord of Light was asking her to prove herself worthy of being saved. Alyn had left the door open behind him. If she could get past him then maybe she could escape her cell and escape Ramsay. Maybe she could find Stannis and be safe by his side.
She then started to struggle again, but his grip was still too strong for her. She couldn't escape it. Then her instincts kicked in. Ramsay had been wanting her to act like a hound, and so she did. She drove her teeth into Alyn's neck and bit deep, before pulling back and tearing away his flesh.
The man let her drop to the floor as he gasped and stumbled. He himself then fell backwards, his right hand grasping at the mortal wound on the side of his neck. Blood poured down his dirty clothes and along his bare legs. It pooled beneath him, and was soaked in by the hay. He didn't even put up that much of a fight against his fate, as soon he had stopped moving and stopped moaning. She had killed him.
Before she could make her way to the door, however, a new figure appeared within the frame.
Ramsay Bolton looked very different when dressed in his formal clothes. His cloak was lined with wolfskin, and he wore a pink jerkin. His eyes were still ice cold, and his usually blotchy skin now looked pale and sickly. He reached his hand out for her, and she took it. His skin was deathly pale.
"You follow behind me, dog."
Had he not seen the body of one his men laid in the corner of the room that he had just entered? Why wasn't he acknowledging what she had just done. She had just murdered one of his boys, one of his loyal followers. was he not angry? Was he not riled up? She had expected beatings and humiliation for what she had done? Why did he look so calm, and why did he feel so cold?
She followed behind him, walking on all fours, her ass in the air, as Ben Bones had taught her. She was bare, and she could feel the eyes of the male dogs on her as she went past their cages, yet Ramsay never once looked behind him to check whether or not she was following. She looked in one of the cages, and saw Devan Seaworth, slumped up against the corner, pale and emaciated. She couldn't tell if he was still alive.
She was expecting to be taken through the courtyard, where everybody could hear her, but instead Ramsay took her up some side-steps, which led straight into the main part of Winterfell castle. She found Damon and Ben waiting for them at the top of the steps.
Ben Bones was an old man, with wrinkled skin and grey hair. He had been given the name Bones because Ramsay thought he looked like a bag of skin and bones, or so Damon had said on their way to the castle. Ramsay had made him brief her on all of his boys, so that she knew who her masters were when she arrived at her new home.
Damon was Ramsay's favourite man-at-arms. He was younger than the others who followed him, who were mostly grown men. He was maybe a few years older than Ramsay himself, maybe even a few years younger.
There was a large tub of water stood in between the two men. Damon took hold of her forcefully and pushed her into it. Ben Bones then started to rub her down with a cloth. He was mumbling to himself about how to treat dogs, and Melisandre noticed that Ramsay had taken Damon to the side of the room, and was talking to him in hushed whispers. She wondered what was on the mind of the heir to the Dreadfort. She wondered why she was being cleaned up now.
"She has to be perfectly clean for my father, Ben. Get her there and then bring her up."
Roose Bolton wanted to see her? She had seen the man when she arrived, but only in passing as Ramsay had presented his prizes to his father. Roose had been unimpressed, and complained about the absence of Shireen, although Ramsay had lied to him, she had thought Roose still looked sceptical. It had caused her to wonder at the time if somebody had been reporting on Ramsay to Roose, but all thoughts like that had left her mind when the tortures began.
She carefully looked Ben Bones up and down. She knew that he wasn't the closest to Ramsay, preferring the company of his dogs than their master, but he hadn't been brought with Ramsay to attack them, so she knew it couldn't have been him.
What about Damon, though? Could he be the person that was betraying Ramsay? She didn't believe it. The two of them were too close. Who did that leave? It could have been Alyn, and if so she had just solved that problem for her captor. Could that have been why Ramsay acted so calm when he discovered his man dead in her cell? Had he been more glad than angry? Did he even know he was being reported on?
"'Ere, bitch. Why the blood on ya teeth?"
She looked up, and saw Ben Bones looking down at her. Was he expecting her to answer him, or would he beat her if she used the common tongue, as Ramsay had told them to do when alone with her. She was forbidden from talking. She decided to play it safe, and whimpered, as if she was a dog.
"You don't have to keep up the act around me, girl. I care little for Lord Bolton or his son. I see no reason to pretend that you are one of my dogs."
"One of them- He tried to rape me- I- I- I bot out his throat."
She thought Ben would strike her for that, but instead he just carried on washing her, showing no sort of emotion for the man that she had killed. She knew that he didn't particularly like Ramsay, but did that extend out to the rest of Ramsay's men too? Was he against Sour Alyn and Damon-Dance-For-Me?
She was in the water for near an hour before Ben was done. When he got her out, she found Damon back in the room. He put her back in her red robes. They had been cleaned too. If it wasn't for her shaved head then it would be virtually impossible to tell that she had ever even been tortured by Ramsay Bolton, although that was definitely the point.
She straightened her back as she was walked through the halls and corridors of Winterfell. There was a good feeling about being able to walk on both feet, instead of crawling around her small cell. They passed several groups of servants, some of whom looked at them as they passed, and whispered things under their breath. Did the whole castle know what had happened to her?
The room that she was taken to was the solar of the Lord of Winterfell. It was a small room, both dark and cold, but larger than her cell. There was a wooden desk in the middle of the room, with Bolton flags on the walls. Three people were already in the room when she arrived. One of them was Ramsay, stood besides the door, his face now flushed and blotchy. Roose Bolton was sat at his desk, whilst the third man was someone she wasn't familiar.
He was an old man with a long white beard. His skin didn't sag, but stayed taut to his skeleton. His eyes were dark, and they flitted around the room fast, as if he was taking in the faces of all the people gathered here.
"Ah, Damon. We have been waiting."
That was Roose speaking. He had a quiet voice, but one that caused a chill to pass through her bones. His eyes were cold, and his smile thin. It looked as if he was thinking of all the things that he could do to you, with a lazy smile at the same time.
"You can go, Damon. Brief him on his role, Ramsay."
Ramsay nodded at his father's wish and left the room with Damon. She then expected Roose to turn to her, but instead he turned to the old man.
"Your brother is causing us quite a few problems. I trust that I have your discretion in this matter?"
"Nobody will know what you have told me, my lord. I am your most trusted bannerman. My lips are sealed."
"Good. Take twenty good Umber men and scout to see if you can't find where Wyman Manderly has vanished to. I would like a word with our fat friend."
The old man nodded, and then sweeped out of the room. That left her and Roose. The Lord of the Dreadfort still didn't turn his icy eyes onto her, though, but he started writing a letter on some parchment before him. She could hear the scratching of his quill on the old paper. When he was done he neatly folded the letter and placed a hot seal of pink wax on the paper.
She was surprised when she heard him speaking to her.
"Would you just ask the guard outside the door to come in?"
She was surprised also by the courteous way that he addressed her, but still, something about his smile suggested that this was all some big joke to him. It was like he was playing with her, like he was playing with everyone. Still, she did as he said, and got the lone guard from outside to come in. Roose handed him a letter, and sent him to the maesters to have it delivered.
"That is all my business sorted. Except fo you and your king. Tell me, Lady Melisandre... What would you do if you were in my position?"
She wasn't sure what Roose's game was, or why he was asking for her advice, but she knew the only course of action for him if he wanted to survive.
"Surrender. Stannis Baratheon is the one true king, all those who defy him will end up dead sooner or later."
She expected Roose to laugh at her suggestion. He didn't. He just stared at her. There was nothing menacing about his face, except for the eyes. They bore into her, as if looking into her very soul and picking apart her very being. She knew where Ramsay got his ice cold eyes now.
"Yes."
That was all he said as he stared at her, before getting up and walking to the door. His tread was soft, and made little sound. He was like a ghost. She turned around as he opened the door, and saw Ramsay stood on the other side. His face was more flushed than it had been during the rest of the day. Something had angered him.
"She is my prisoner, father, and I will not let you take her! She is mine to do with as I wish! I took her and the others! I already gave you the Florent!"
Roose waited for the rant to stop before speaking. His voice was calm and low. He was quiet, but scary.
"You gave me Axell Florent because the boy king demanded him. I would have sent the queen with this errand, but she is dead. You left me no choice but to send this one, Ramsay."
Ramsay bit his lip as his father spoke, and opened his mouth to speak a retort, but Roose raised his hand, indicating he didn't want to hear more. It seemed that even Ramsay was scared of the Lord of the Dreadfort, as he stopped speaking.
"You. Prisoner. I am sending you away. You are free to go. Well, free-ish. I dislike this war I am fighting for no avail. Your one true king is winning, through no fault of my own. My son and my wife's men have failed me at every turn. I will take your advice, and wish to negotiate terms of surrender. You are to be one of the people that I send to negotiate for me."
"Father-"
The hand was raised again, and Ramsay stopped talking. She was glad that the two of them were not alone, as she could see his anger broiling up inside him. He would have beaten her and humiliated her, if his father was not here. She knew that.
"Damon will take you, to make sure you behave. When your king agrees to the terms then Damon will habd you over. Until then, he will be given full control of everything in regards to you."
Why was Roose doing this now? Why would he send her with Damon? Did he really expect Stannis to accept his surrender, or was this just part of a larger plan? She had to do what he said. This was her chance to get away from Ramsay. She had no idea how Stannis would react to what had happened to her, or to the truth she would tell him about his wife and daughter. She had to do this. She had to escape.
"I'll do it."