The King in the North

"Ah, there you are; I've been looking for you. It'd be much easier to find you if you spent more time in my...well..I suppose it's now our bedchamber, isn't it," asked the Night's King as he entered one of Winterfell's guest chambers.

"I stay away from your bedchamber because I don't want to be anywhere near you, stupid," Beltaine replied.

"Something wrong, my Lady? The winter snows killed all the flowers you were hoping to pick, is that it?" Who would have thought talking about flowers and sewing would be the simplest way to make the bitch lose her temper?

"I don't want to pick any stupid flowers."

"In any case, it's past time we got rid of that little sword that you're always carrying around. A proper lady such as yourself shouldn't be playing with such things."

"I'm not a Lady and if you ever touch Needle, I'll –"

"What's that, my Lady?"

"Shut up!"

"Now, now, is that any way to speak to your beloved Lord husband?" I suppose the game can wait a little while, no need to rush things.

"You're right," the Night's Queen replied, "that was most rude of me. Forgive me, Your Grace. What I meant to say was 'shut up, King Cripple of House Bastard.'"

"I warned you not to call me that again," snapped the Night's King, his smirk turning into a scowl.

"No, you said not to call you King Bastard of House Cripple."

"Stop calling me that, you little cunt."

"But you are a bastard."

"I was naturalized. That means I'm not a Snow."

"Yes, you are."

"No...I'm...NOT!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am... Listen, you –"

"Listen to you babble like an idiot? Mayhaps another time. I have more pressing matters to attend to at the moment. I can't imagine what they would be, but I'm sure whatever I decide to do will be far more important than anything you have to say," said Beltaine. "You have my leave to go, King Bastard," she added, sounding as though nothing could have bored her half so much as their conversation.

"For the last bloody time, you do NOT give me commands," snapped the Night's King.

"That wasn't a command, stupid. I gave you permission to leave."

"I don't need your permission to do anything!"

"I was giving you a command when I ordered you never to hurt any of the other Sidhe though. And the time that I told you to stop complaining about your belly. You feel any pain I do, so you and your stupid belly had better get used to that feeling," the Night's Queen replied, rolling her eyes. I must needs remain calm and suffer the bitch's insolence...for now. The game we're going to play will be more than worth it, most like.

"I...I do believe we've gotten off on the wrong foot, sweet wife," said Dulrihan, his face still twitching with anger. "I only wanted to say that I have a surprise for you. I imagine you'll have quite a bit of fun with it."

"You're dying?"

"No, I'm afraid that's never going to happen." Was that supposed to upset me? Surely the cunt can do better than that.

"Then I don't care about your stupid surprise...unless...are you going to tell me whether your real name is Dulrihan or Ramsay Bolton? Is that the surprise? I'll finally be able to kill you?"

"You know, it really is a shame that I'll never have a chance to take you hunting. Most of the girls simply ran away, but you...I do believe you might have actually tried to fight back. You'd have still ended up dead, of course, but it would've been a hunt to remember...even if you aren't quite big enough to make a proper pelt."

"Tell me your real name and we can go hunting today, if you'd like. I'll even give you a head start. Maybe..."

"Mayhaps another time."

"Why not today? Just think, you'll never have to hear anyone call you a bastard ever again once you're dead. You once said that the Boltons hung the skins of their enemies in the Dreadfort. I could hang yours in Winterfell for you, if you'd like."

"Look at you...already eager to hunt men down like dogs. You really would've fit right in at the Dreadfort, although I imagine father would've hated you. Whoever you were before I...ah...changed you, these days I find it hard to believe you weren't born a Bolton." The wolf bitch is not a true Bolton, but I imagine telling her that she's become one will make the her more miserable than anything else I can do. Although if I could create Reek then mayhaps I can turn her into one. She'll require a few adjustments, to be sure. It can be a new game for us to play!

"I'm not a stupid Bolton! I am a...a dire...I...d-don't ever call me that again," said Beltaine, before biting her lip. Always a good sign when she does that! If I can't scare the wolf bitch when she angers me, I suppose I'll have to settle for making her want to cry. I will have those tears one of these days!

"But the flayed man is on House Bolton's banners. In a way those are still my...well...I suppose they'd be our banners now. And you did just threaten to skin me, didn't you?"

"No, I...shut up!"

"And of course, even if I hadn't changed you, your name would still be Arya Bolton by all the laws of Gods and men. I suppose that makes you as much a Bolton as I am or was."

"If you ever call me 'Arya Bolton' again, I'll kill you...whatever your stupid name –"

"No need to worry about that, sweet wife. Your name is Beltaine now; you've been very clear about that. Of course, if you ever give me a daughter, I will name her Arya. You don't mind, do you? After all, you said yourself that your name isn't Arya Stark anymore, so it shouldn't cause any confusion. I suppose it will be strange for you, watching little Arya Bolton grow up."

"But even if you could kill me," continued the Night's King as he ducked to avoid the bronze candlestick holder that came flying across the room at his head, "that'd mean you'd never get to cross Walder Frey off that list you're always going off about."

"Walder Frey is dead, stupid. And if you say even one more word about getting me with child – "

"I didn't mean the late Lord Frey. Reek, you can bring him in now," he shouted. Reek nudged a young boy into the room. Hard to say which of them is shaking more.

"I don't care about some stupid Frey who isn't even old enough to have had anything to do with the Red Wedding."

"But this isn't just any Frey. This one is apparently known as Big Walder Frey, or so he says. He has a brother named Little Walder whom I'm going to turn into a Sidhe and make my squire. I've grown a bit fond of boy ever since I saw him trip Reek and send my pet tumbling down the stairs. Of course, I had to punish Reek for nearly letting the boy escape. Don't have much use for this one though, so he's yours to do with as you wish. Oh and you should know that Reek told me that when our dear Freys were wards of House Stark at Winterfell, Big Walder here told a boy named Theon Greyjoy where two little wolf pups were hiding to save his own life. Err...that will be all, Reek. You'd best leave us now." Wouldn't want her to kill him too. She would've already killed him with that damn spoon if I had shown up a moment later. And then there was the bloody chicken bone. Who tries to kill a man with a chicken bone? I wonder what she'll do when she learns that poor Walder was simply an innocent child...after she's killed him, of course.

"I...d-d-did not...I..." stuttered Big Walder.

"Shut up," Dulrihan and Beltaine shouted in unison.

"He...he led Theon to Arya's brother," asked the Night's Queen. Let the games begin!

"Oh yes, one could even say the boys are dead because of him."

"Boys? Robb was at Winterfell?"

"No, Brandon and Rickon Stark. Reek said –"

"Arya Stark only had two brothers, stupid. Rickon and the one your father betrayed."

"What I'm trying to say is that Reek told me that this boy led Theon to your – "

"And that's how Theon was able to kill Arya's brother?"

"I suppose Reek would know that better than anyone, wouldn't he? Surely that's enough to put the Frey boy on your list, isn't it?"

"It's a prayer, not a list, stupid."

"After everything that has happened, you still think someone will answer your prayers," the Night's King asked, struggling to contain his laughter.

"Arya Stark never prayed to the one true God," said Beltaine.

"She should have been praying to me." Not that it would have done her any good.

"Why would anyone pray to you? You're not the Great Other, stupid."

"You still haven't answer my question. Is leading Theon Greyjoy to Arya Stark's broth...err...to Rickon Stark enough to earn our friend of Frey a place of honor in your prayer?"

"Might be; why do you care?"

"I care because I imagine it will be quite a bit of fun to watch you kill something, simple enough really. Mayhaps we could take the boy hunting. Would you like that?"

"No, but could I...could...could I borrow your flaying knife?"

"Of course, you can! Nothing would please me more," the Night's King exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement as Beltaine approached him.

"Thank you," she replied, smiling at him.

"Mayhaps my wolf will find herself in the heat when she's finished," said the Night's King with a wet-lipped smile. She is already fourteen. A woman grown and a very beautiful one at that. I'd say my sweet wife is well past due for a good, long rape. I imagine she'd put up quite the fight, but that's half the fun right there! Awfully boring if they've already been broken in. If you get one like that, all you can really do is go through the motions. I'm sick of waiting to put a baby in the bloody wolf cunt. If I can't rape her, I'll have to figure out some way. I hope you're happy, father! One way or another though, I'll make the wolf howl. I'm tired of waiting!

"I'd rather die, now are you going to give me the stupid knife or not," asked the Night's Queen, her smile turning into a scowl.

"Yes, yes, very well," replied the Night's King, frowning in disappointment. I've given her a Frey, what more does the cunt want from me? I'm not going to let her hurt Reek. He is my pet. MINE! At least I'll get to watch her kill something. As the Night's King began to unsheathe his flaying knife, Beltaine grabbed the dragonglass dagger from his knifebelt and pointed it directly at his groin.

"And...and just what do you think you're going to do with that? Something interesting, I hope."

"You must be the stupidest bastard in Westeros," Beltaine snapped, rolling her eyes in disgust. "Did you really think I'd ever believe a word you said? I think it was the other Frey who told Theon where Rickon was hiding. I think that's why you liked him. Oh, and if you ever speak of getting me with child again, I'll unman you. Do you understand? I can't hear you," she shouted.

"I under...I understand." You'd best keep that dagger, you little cunt. Else I'm going to fuck you bloody with that sword of yours one of these days. I don't care what it does to me.

"Mayhaps I should unman you anyway. What do you think? You've stolen so much from me, so it's only fair that I take something away from you," she continued.

"The dragonglass will kill me and you...you still don't know my real name yet. That means you can't kill me." Doesn't it?

"I suppose I could wait until I find out your real name, but you'll have to do something first if you want to live another second. You have to admit that you're a bastard."

"I was naturalized. That means I'm not a – "

"'Kill me now!' Was that what you just said?"

"I am...I...I am a...I AM GOING TO KILL YOU," the Night's King roared.

"Last chance."

"No! Wait! I...I am...my name was...was once Ramsay Snow."

"Not a Snow, a bastard. Say it right now," snapped Beltaine.

"I...I am...a bastard," Dulrihan mumbled.

"What's that? I can't hear you."

"I AM A BASTARD and I...I...I swear by the Great Other that you will rue this day, you little cunt!"

"You're not very smart, are you? Call me that again and I might change my mind about not unmanning you. I think I'll keep this dagger," said Beltaine as she carefully backed away from the Night's King. "You really shouldn't be playing with such things. Oh and you'll have to find yourself a new squire. Little Walder is about to accidentally stab himself to death."

...

There never was a Bran Stark? Reek must needs be punished for getting that bit wrong. Fortunately, one of the raven wights had recently seen a boy with the Stark look living on Skagos. If Reek is to be believed, the boy is of the right age to be Rickon Stark and the woman living with him fit his description of the Wildling whore that helped the boy escape from Winterfell. How hard can it be to find one wolf pup on a small island?

The wolf cunt won't be so insolent once I have her little shit of a brother. She may not be Arya anymore, but she has to remember him. I still remember father. I don't remember many things, but I remember him. I wedded Arya Stark. I still have to put a baby in her, but I've come close enough already. I am a Bolton, not a Snow. Father would have said as much if he were here. He would have made me his heir; he...he said he would if I found a way to marry the wolf bitch. Soon I will have the Stark boy and the wolf bitch will never call me a bastard again. Never!

Beltaine's words echoed through his mind. "'You are a bastard.' 'The stupidest bastard in Westeros.' 'Admit that you're a bastard.' 'Bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard, bast –' "

"SHUT UP!" the Night's King roared, punching Big Walder in the face so hard that the blow knocked him unconscious and sent at least five teeth flying out of the boy's mouth. Are these vermin good for anything? I suppose there's no point flaying someone unless they're awake, he decided, frowning.

...

"Reek, get in here, NOW," the Night's King shouted once he had finally regained his composure.

"Yes, master," the creature whimpered, bursting into the room.

"You told me that there were three Stark boys. You said that Bran and Rickon Stark were at Winterfell when Theon Greyjoy captured it. The wolf cunt says that she had only two brothers: Robb Stark and Rickon Stark. Do you know what I think? I don't think there ever was a Bran Stark. I don't think there has ever been anyone with that name. I think you lied to me," the Night's King snarled.

"But there...there were, Bran and R-R-Rick – "

"Mayhaps I'm just going soft in the head and this whole thing is one big misunderstanding. Could that be it?"

"No! If master says, then it has to be true. Master is never wrong. Forgive me, I – "

"I was going to gouge out your left eye my flaying knife and cut off your lips," said the Night's King, "but since you've apologized like a good Reek, I'll only take two of your fingers. You can even wield the blade yourself this time, won't that be fun?"

"Thank you, master. Master is kind and merciful and generous and –"

"Yes, yes, yes. Well, best to it," he said, handing his pet the knife. At least I will always have a Reek to play with!