A/N: And, we're back with another early morning chapter because, once again, my work internet has block lol. But not Archive for some reason. It is sloppy blocking.

Today is defs a fun chapter so I won't waste any time. Enjoy everyone!

Chapter 54: Wolves and Dogs

Arya dreamed that she was back in her prison of a room at the Dreadfort. Or at least, it nearly looked like the room. It had the same bare bones furniture and it was just as cramped as she remembered. But this time, there was a large window made of pale blue stain glass, so expansive that it nearly spanned the whole back wall.

Through the window, it seemed as if she could see the whole of Westeros. From Winterfell all the way to King's Landing. The world was laid out before her, and it was breaking apart.

She could not begin to take in the chaos. Armies clashed in mass until the rivers ran red with blood, ravens and dragons alike soared through the skies, and there was a creeping darkness that seemed to freeze everything it touched.

The world outside the window was a horror. But behind her was something even worse-Ramsay Bolton.

He entered the room as he always did, a grin on his face, a knife turning in his hand. The scars he gave her before burned at the sight. His head tilted to the side.

"So...we're back here."

Arya dodged his blade as it sliced toward her face but he moved almost inhumanly fast. She tripped over her own ankles in her haste to dodge and smacked against the window. The glass did not give and he seized her by the collar, pinning her up against the pale blue glass.

"It is something out there, isn't it?" he asked. "Such a beautiful sight. I've never seen so much fire and ice and blood." She could feel his breath on her ear and it made her physically nauseous. "You know what that means don't you? You know in your heart...this isn't the end. There is so much more to come."

Arya shuddered. Yes. She knew that. Somehow she knew there was so much more. Maybe it was Bran's dreams or the mysterious traitor or the fact that her life seemed so attracted to chaos. But she was looking out at the rest of her life through this window and it was one fight after another.

"So many fights. And you're not strong enough to face any of it," he whispered in her ear. "You weren't even strong enough to face me."

"You're never going to escape me, little wolf."

Arya screamed and pounded on the window, trying to break through. But it did not give and she was trapped inside that room with her worst nightmare. And all she could do was watch as the world was drowned in blood.

Her own scream woke her. That and the feeling of something wet on her hand. Arya jolted awake, clutching at her chest with her left hand. When she looked down toward her mangled right hand, she found Nymeria sitting at her bedside, nudging her fingers with her wet nose.

Arya swallowed hard as she looked down at her wolf. "Did you...wake me, girl?"

Nymeria did not reply, but her eyes seemed to say yes. She rested her large head on the bed beside Arya.

"Thank you," Arya murmured, stroking her three right fingers through Nymeria's fur. "I'm sorry for making you come back for me. You were doing fine on your own I think. You're stronger than me." She turned to look out her window, half expecting to see the chaos of her dream. But all she saw was the familiar walls of Winterfell. No dragons. No armies. No creeping darkness.

No Ramsay.

Yet still she trembled in the dark of her room, thinking of the threats still to come. Thinking of whether or not she would ever be strong enough to face them.

Seven hells...will this ever be over?


Ramsay's head was fuzzy and he found it hard to focus on his surroundings. At first when he heard the struggle in the hall, he thought he must be dreaming. He blinked and the space in front of him was guarded by two men. He blinked again and there was only one-a guard in a Lannister uniform opening the door to his cell.

This is an interesting turn of events, he thought, peering up at the soldier suspiciously.

"Hello there," he said. "Are you here to free me?"

The soldier did not reply. Ramsay focused on the knife in his hand.

"Or...perhaps you are here to kill me?" He laughed once. "Did your master ask this of you? To kill the Boltons should we ever be taken alive...Or at least cut out our tongues. Cersei Lannister wouldn't want her name reaching her father."

"So you understand," the soldier said. "No hard feelings. But you did fail and you need to die. She can't risk you talking."

"I didn't plan to talk. I'm not so weak," Ramsay said. "Though I suppose I'd rather die than face their torture. I'm something of an expert in torture, you see. I know it won't be pleasant."

The Lannister man turned a dagger in his hand and stepped forward. Ramsay lifted his chin.

"Or...I have another proposal."

"Do you?" the soldier asked. "You have thirty seconds to say it before I cut your throat."

"Your master hates Arya Stark, doesn't she?" Ramsay asked. "She wanted to hurt the north, but she wanted to hurt the Stark girl more than anything else. But the Stark girl survived. I can't imagine she'll be happy about that."

"No," the soldier agreed. "Are you suggesting a way to remove the Stark girl?"

"Yes," Ramsay grinned. "And if I fail...well, I won't live long enough to return here."

The soldier tilted his head to the side. "I'm listening."


"It's not possible," Robb muttered as he stared into the empty cell. In the hall behind him, six guards lay dead, their blood dried on the stones. The cell door was open. And Ramsay Bolton was gone.

"Post more guards," Arya had said. "Don't underestimate him."

And he had listened to her. Six guards should have been plenty for any normal prisoner. And in addition to that, Winterfell was under heavy guard at every wall. How could he have gotten away? How could Ramsay Bolton have slipped out without anyone noticing? It was impossible.

"Is it true?"

Tywin Lannister's voice came from behind him-cold as the wind outside. Robb did not turn. He was furious with himself. Why didn't he just break Ramsay Bolton's fucking legs?

"Yes. It's true," he said at last. "But...but how far could he possibly get? He could barely keep his eyes open yesterday. He couldn't possibly sneak away without someone noticing."

"No. Not without help," Tywin said. "It is possible that a Bolton man snuck inside in the chaos."

Robb slammed the side of his fist against the wall. He was tired of traitors. He tried to burn them all out like infection from a wound, and yet some always seemed to remain. And they had released Ramsay Bolton back into the world.

"Calm yourself," Tywin said. "He won't get far. He's lost quite a bit of blood and his head can't be back to normal. It's a desperate final play. Set the hounds to finding him. There's plenty of his scent in this cell."

Robb nodded once. "Yes. There is." He turned and stalked from room, hoping to find some watchman who had seen Ramsay Bolton's escape.

They found evidence of his path soon enough. A rope was tethered to the eastern wall of the Godswood, and there was an evidence of a rough fall. Blood as well. Ramsay Bolton had left his blood on the snow. The hounds would pick up the trail easily enough.

"It's a desperate attempt at escape, nothing more," Tywin said flatly. "He has nowhere to go."

"No," Robb agreed. "I'll lead the search party to bring him back myself. And this time, when I find him, I'll shatter his ankles and knees so that he cannot think to run."

"Very well," Tywin said. "Take my son with you. To represent my interests." He rested a hand on his side. "I would ride myself, but I don't want to reopen my wound."

"No, you should stay here," Robb said. He pulled at his glove. "And until we return...don't tell Arya."

"Why keep her in the dark?" Tywin asked.

"She fears him enough when he's in a cell. She pretends she doesn't but...you can see it if you look close enough." Robb's fists clenched. "If she finds out he's missing, she won't be able to sleep at all."

Tywin didn't speak for a moment. Then he nodded. "Very well. For now, we won't tell her. It isn't as if she can search for him without reopening her wounds."

"Thank you," Robb said. Then he turned to his men. "Gather riders and the hounds outside the east wall. We leave as soon as possible."


Jaime was visiting with Arya when the Lannister messenger knocked on the door and asked to see him for a moment in the hall. That was the first thing that pricked Arya's suspicion. If Lord Tywin had sent a messenger to talk to Jaime then he wouldn't be concerned about her overhearing. Then again, perhaps the messenger had thought the words were meant for Jaime alone.

A moment later, Jaime reentered the room with a very serious expression. That was the second thing that set her nerves on edge.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"No, nothing," Jaime said. A lie. He was lying to her. "Your brother asked for my assistance on something. Seven hells, that's something I never expected to say. Did you ever think you would see us getting along so well?"

"He doesn't exactly like you," Arya said. "He tolerates you."

"That in and of itself is a miracle," Jaime said. "I'm sorry to cut our visit short. But I expect I'll be back very soon."

"Back from what?" Arya asked.

"Nothing important."

"If it was nothing important, you would just tell me."

Jaime sighed and glanced to the side. "We're scouting for the remains of the enemy forces to see if any of them have hidden the woods. Your brother wanted Lannister troops to cover more ground. Does that satisfy you?"

It didn't. It was still a lie. But Arya forced a smile and nodded once. "Yes. Be careful."

Jaime nodded once. "You as well."

"I don't imagine I can get into much trouble in this room," Arya pointed out.

"None the less," Jaime glanced over his shoulder. "You do have bad luck. It never hurts to be on guard."

Then he left the room, his last comment ringing in her ears.

It never hurts to be on guard.

He said like something of a joke...and yet at the same time, it felt like a warning.


By the next night, Jaime and Robb had not returned with their men. But no one told Arya exactly why they had gone.

There was something wrong in the air. Something other than the secrets. Arya could sense it. Granted, everything seemed wrong these days. She rarely slept for fear that she would not be prepared for the next threat. The atmosphere of Winterfell was taut with tension at all times.

But tonight, it felt worse. She sat straight up in bed, staring out the window. Watching and waiting for the shadows to move. She turned her knife over and over again in her hand.

"Arya," Sansa murmured. "You should sleep. You haven't slept in days. You need rest to heal."

"I am resting," Arya murmured. "I'm just not sleeping."

Sansa put down her needlework and went over to her side. "I'll wait with you while you sleep. I'll keep watch."

"And if an enemy comes, will you fight them?" Arya asked sharply. Sansa flinched and a shard of guilt pierced Arya's heart. "I'm sorry...That was...I don't expect you to..."

"It's alright," Sansa said. "Besides. You have Nymeria to guard you."

Arya's brow furrowed and she looked toward the door. "Sansa, where is Nymeria?"

"Maybe she heard a sound and decided to investigate," Sansa said. "She'll be back. You know how she never stays still for too long. She's like you in that way."

"Which is why this bed is beginning to drive me mad," Arya sighed. It still felt wrong. It all felt so wrong. She looked out the window again.

This time, the shadows did move. No...It was smoke. Someone had set a fire.

"Fire," Arya murmured. "There's a fire. Sansa-"

The door slammed closed. Arya whipped around, so fast she felt pain spike through her torso. Ramsay Bolton stood in the center of the room, just behind Sansa. One hand covered her mouth and the other pressed a blade to her throat.

His face was a mess of dried blood and he was missing two fingers on his right hand just like her, though he still managed to grip his knife without any trouble. He swayed a bit where he stood, as if he was having trouble keeping balance. Clearly, he was not at his best. But she wasn't at her best either.

"Hello again," Ramsay purred. His voice sent a deep shiver through Arya. "Did you miss me, little wolf?"

Arya couldn't speak. Her throat had closed up and her tongue felt like lead in her mouth. She knew he would come back for her. He had haunted her dreams enough. She knew she would see him again.

Her hand flashed to her bedside, snatching her knife. But before she could move to throw it, she heard Sansa whimper. Ramsay pressed his blade harder to her throat, slicing shallowly into the skin. Arya froze as she saw a few drops of blood rolled down her pale neck.

"That's it," Ramsay said. "You stay still. Or I'll open Lady Sansa's throat right here. The red will go with her hair, don't you think?"

Arya did not reply. She did not trust herself to speak to him. Anger and fear mixed in her chest, absolutely enveloping her being. She wanted to rip him to piece. She wanted to carve his smile from his face. But the moment she moved to do so...he would kill Sansa.

"My gamble worked out rather well," Ramsay said. "A bit of blood outside of the walls of Winterfell and your brother assumed I had left the castle." He smirked. "Not that I could have gotten very far. Smarter to hide within the walls and wait for some of your protectors to leave."

That was what Jaime was hiding. Ramsay had escaped and they hadn't told her. Did they really think her so weak that they were keeping secrets now?

"Oh, you didn't know I escaped, did you?" Ramsay asked. "I can see it on your face. Perhaps they did not want to worry you. That's very sweet." His smile widened. "This is what is going to happen. You're going to put down that knife and come to me. You left before our wedding. It was very awkward for me you know. Not having a bride or a wedding night. I think we should remedy that."

Arya's grip tightened on her knife. She did not move. She did not reply.

"Look at you. More a startled cat than a wolf. Have I been visiting you in your nightmares, my lady?" Ramsay purred.

Arya wished that she could say 'no'. She wished that Ramsay had never gotten any hold over her mind. But her tongue and eyes would not lie today. And her hand trembled as she gripped her blade.

Ramsay's gaze hardened just slightly. He lifted Sansa's chin with the blade. "The knife, little wolf. Put it down. You won't be able to use it properly with that mangled right hand of yours."

Arya looked from Ramsay to Sansa. She expected to see terror in her sister's eyes. Instead she saw defiance. And a silent promise.

Arya relaxed her grip on the blade and straightened. "No. But I'm left handed."

Sansa's hand snapped up. She grasped Ramsay's knife with her bare fingers, screaming as it cut into her skin. But it blocked the edge from her throat and that was all Arya needed. She hurled the knife at Ramsay. It took him in the eye, not deep enough to kill him but deep enough to make him howl.

With a cry, Sansa pushed away from him, falling to the floor. Arya lunged at Ramsay without a second thought, slamming into him with the full force of her body and tackling him to the ground. She twisted the knife in his eye and sank her teeth into his ear, ripping at the flesh like wolf in her dream. She relished his screams and the taste of his blood. It was a joy to make him bleed.

He still had a knife too. She felt it cut into her side and she rolled off of him to avoid the worst of the damage, landing in a crouch beside the bed. Ramsay still had her knife in his eye and a bloody knife of his own.

But she had two swords under her bed.

She grabbed the first one her hand felt as he came at her. Needle. She stepped back from a vicious swing from his blade and jabbed it forward, poking a hole in his stomach. Blood spilled from the wound, but he was not easily deterred. He had the eyes of a mad dog. He gripped the thin blade and took it with him as he fell back, disarming her again.

That's alright. I have another sword.

Arya knelt and found 'Winter's Fury' beneath the bed as well.

"How many swords... do you have," Ramsay gasped out, his remaining eye blazing with hate.

Arya smiled coldly, drawing her blade from its sheath and casting it to the ground. "Enough to kill you."

She lunged at him. He threw needle at her. The tip cut a streak across her cheek, but missed anything important. She cut a wide arc with her blade, slicing deep across his chest. He coughed and fell back. His knife slipped from his hand and skidded across the ground, and when he reached for it, she sliced the rest of his hand clean off. His scream made her feel strong.

Every part of Arya's body burned. She could feel fresh blood pouring from her wounds, old and new. But she felt strong as she stared down at him.

"Are you surprised?" she said flatly. "You kept calling me little wolf. And you know well enough that wolves have teeth."

The bedroom door rattled and Arya heard growling just beyond. A dark little thought entered her mind as she looked down at Ramsay. Bleeding out. Choking on his own breath. It would be easy to take his head with her own sword. Or she could leave him to bleed. He would be dead in a few minutes if she did.

But that was too clean an ending for him.

Slowly, Arya paced around him, turning Winter's Fury in her hand. "You like to hurt people don't you? You like to scare them. Break them. It gives you a lot of pleasure. I could tell that about you when we first met." She stopped in front of the door. "But it's a gamble, trying to break a person instead of killing them. Because if they don't break...then they'll break you."

Ramsay laughed. It was a hysterical pained sound. "Are you going to break me, little wolf."

Arya tilted her head to the side. "I may be a little wolf. But I am a wolf none the less. You're just...a rabid dog." She placed her hand on the handle of the door. "Do you know what wolves do to dogs, Ramsay? You didn't give me an answer the first time I asked. What do wolves do to dogs?"

Now he didn't reply. She relished the fear in his eyes. He was trying to hide it with rage, but he was too weak to make it convincing.

"It's alright. I'll show you," Arya said. Then she opened the door.

Nymeria was on him in the blink of an eye. Ramsay screamed as she tore at his arms. At his face. At his throat. Nymeria did not go immediately for the throat, as if she sensed that this man did not deserve a quick end. But when he was barely recognizable and his screams became wet, she sunk her teeth deep into his neck and silenced him.

For a moment, there was silence in the room. Arya took a few steps forward toward the body, looking down at the ruined mess. She was aware of Sansa again. Sansa who had witnessed the whole encounter. Her sister was staring at her with one part worry and one part horror.

Slowly, Arya sagged against the wall. Now that the adrenaline began to die, she felt weakness returning to her and she was painfully aware of her wounds.

"Arya!" Sansa pushed herself to her feet. "You're...you're bleeding again."

"I'll be fine," Arya murmured. But internally she was cursing herself. She should have gotten a name. Why had she forgotten about the name entirely? In the midst of her rage and fear, the traitor had disappeared from her mind. There was only Ramsay and the need to destroy him.

"Don't move," Sansa said. "I'll find Maester Luwin. Do not move."

Arya's eyelids were heavy as she heard the footsteps pace away. She looked up at Nymeria who looked right back at her, blood dripping from her maw.

It's over, she thought. He's dead. I killed him.

Why then did she still feel weak?


A/N: On the plus side, yay! A gruesome death for Ramsay at Arya's hand. On the negative side, she was so overcome with fear and rage that she forgot about the name and now it remains a secret. Boy, I hope that doesn't cause problems down the line *shifty glances*

We'll forgive Arya for that mess up though. She has been thoroughly traumatized and was not expected to confront the subject of her trauma that night so...yep. But any Ramsay death is a good death in my opinion ;)

As always, review, subscribe and I'll see you next time!