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Reek, also known as the Nerd Formerly Known as Theon, was boreder than shit. Time in the dungeon didn't really exist; it was always dark, damp, and smelly, and there was no way to see the world outside, so he spent most of his days masturbating. Reek had built elaborate systems of deceit for getting the guards to bring tissue paper and lotion into the dungeon, and he'd even drawn his own pornography, in the dirt, using his fingertip.

Ramsay used to play with him frequently, but no longer. It had been days… maybe weeks since anyone had come to drag him to the torture chamber. There was nothing to do. He couldn't even see the porn he'd drawn, so he still had to use his imagination anyway. His hair was getting long and his dick was getting chafed. The Dreadfort was bullshit.

"Ring ring ring ring ring," Reek called, rattling the door to his cell and beginning to slap and kick it. "Ring ring ring, lemme out, I'm bored, lemme go home, lemme—"

"Reek?"

Reek froze. He put his ear to the door and listened. He could feel his heart thumping high up in his collarbones. "Ramsay?" he said.

The door unlocked and opened cautiously. Ugly Ramsay Snow shuffled in with his head down.

"Where have you been," Reek demanded, slamming his fist into his palm. "You've neglected me. I need stimulation. My brain isn't even fully formed yet! It doesn't finish until you're twenty-five. You need to get back to flaying me."

Ramsay winced. He went to the corner of Reek's cell and sat on the low wooden stool that was the only furniture. The stool cracked and spilled Ramsay's lumpy body to the floor. He made no move to rise.

"I'm sorry," he admitted.

"Sorry for what?"

"I've lost interest in flaying."

Reek screamed, "What?"

"They made me flay Queen Cersei the other day," he said, still lying on his back on the floor. He sighed. "It was so nasty."

"But you love flaying," Reek insisted. "Remember when you did my little finger and I wouldn't quit saying, 'Ramsay loves the cock, Ramsay loves the cock,' until you beat me unconscious?" Reek moved close to his old friend and took his hand. "That was our time."

"I know," Ramsay said, and choked back a sob. "But you weren't there, man. They made me do her whole body. Like, the boobs and everything. It just really grossed me out. How am I supposed to ever look at a naked woman the same way again?"

"There, there," Reek said.

"Don't patronize me!" Ramsay shouted, rising to his feet and pulling furiously on his long, brittle hair.

"My lord," Reek said, taking Ramsay's hands gently in his own to stop him from pulling. "You are the heir to the Dreadfort. You must flay. I mean, it's… it's the law."

"I'm not the heir. My lord father won't legitimize me. As soon as he gets old and sick and needs a new kidney, he'll chop out mine and send me on my way."

"That isn't true, my lord. Lord Roose thinks very… uh… highly of you."

"He doesn't!" screamed Ramsay. He kicked the waste bucket across the cell, splattering the wall with several gallons of Reek's feces. Then he turned to Reek. There were tears shining on his cheeks.

"You're free, dude. I'm heading out and I'm going to leave the door open. You can go wherever you like. And you know what?" He laughed. "If you want to stay here, that's all right too." He leaned close and cupped a hand around Reek's ear so he could whisper.

"The wifi password is grandviolet415."

Reek gasped. "Is… is it really—"

"All one word," Ramsay said, "no capital letters. Spelled just like it sounds. grandviolet415."

"My lord, you bless me with your kindness!"

He kissed Reek on the mouth. "Be well, old friend," he said. And with that, Ramsay Snow exited Reek's cell, climbed the narrow steps, and went out into the world.