The creak of a door hinge had her startling awake. Blind in the dark and stiff from the cold, for a moment she imagined she was back in their room at Castle Black, until her searching hands found the earth-packed floor. Reality struck with a devastating blow, and she remembered she was in Ramsay Snow's dungeon. He'd been in a fury after he'd found he could not harm her personally without retribution from her dragons and he'd had her brought to this dank, deep place.
Scrambling to sit up, she hugged her knees and watched the orange flame of torchlight appear in the distance, moving steadily towards her. She wanted to be brave, but her heart was pounding as she heard him moving closer, giving his dogs commands in the dark.
Hunger dug a pit in her stomach and she hoped at least he'd bring her food, and drink.
The torchlight illuminated his broad nose and wormy lips as he unlocked her cell. She gasped and jumped to her feet as half a dozen great hunting dogs flooded her prison, sniffing and slobbering about her person.
"Good evening, My Queen," Ramsay taunted, "allow me to introduce you to my girls. Grey Jeyne, Helicent, Jez, Alison, Kyra and Red Jeyne."
Dany tried in vain to shoo them away, wishing for Ghost.
"I've named them after the girls who have given me the best chase," he said proudly. "The ones who hold out hope that if they can just run fast enough, make it across the river, maybe they'll live." He petted the red haired dog fondly as he spoke, "the ones who cry, falling to their knees and begging for mercy, their names are forgotten." His eyes found Dany's in the dark. "I'll bet you've never begged for anything." She was hot with fear. "It might be that I'll name one Arya, my men still haven't been able to find her within these walls. But my girls will root her out on the morrow."
Ramsay commanded the dogs to leave her cell and immediately they obeyed as he hung the torch on the wall. Grabbing a stool from a corner, he sat before her and began peeling a green apple.
Dany swallowed, watching the green peel curl around his knife. "You'd be a fool to kill her," she said, "Robb Stark would do anything to bring her home."
Ramsay's eyes grew wide. "Who says I'll kill her? Where's the fun in that? No, she's worth far more to me alive." He threw the apple curl on the ground before her, and she dropped to her knees to grab it greedily, dignity long since forgotten.
"Good girl," he mocked her, "you must eat for your babe. When will it be here? Four months? Fewer?"
"What are you going to do?" she demanded, "why am I here?"
"The dragons, of course, My Queen," he replied, tossing her another bit of apple, "you're going to make me the most powerful man in the North… maybe even the Seven Kingdoms."
"You're a mad man" Dany seethed, "if you go near my dragons, they'll kill you."
"I don't need to control them," he said with a cool smile, "Only you. It would have been much easier if Greyjoy had brought me your son, but you'll have another in time."
She rose back to her feet, her hands balled into tight fists. "I will never help you."
The Bolton bastard's mouth turned up in a slow smile. "We'll see about that. Pain makes people so much more agreeable. I may not be able to hurt you, but there's always the wolf girl."
Dany glowered at him, channeling her fear into anger.
"I've heard tales that you are impervious to flame," Ramsay said, "I'd wager this castle that Arya Stark is not."
He laughed when she did not respond.
Dany held his eerie gaze without flinching. "One day, my dragons will burn you alive."
Her words amused him. "Do you think the worms have started to eat your bastard husband's corpse?" A wave of revulsion passed over her. He chuckled to himself before tossing the last of the apple at her feet, leaving her alone again in her cell. "We'll see if things change tomorrow, after my girls find the she-wolf," he said as he turned the lock, "tonight, there's other game to hunt."
When the light of his torch was swallowed up by darkness, she grabbed blindly for the apple and finished it quickly, but her stomach grumbled sharply. Another cell door creaked open somewhere in the dungeon, and another woman's weary cries were echoing nearby as Ramsay dragged her with him.
She squeezed her eyes shut and thought of Jon and Aemon, and agony gripped her again. Her sobs rang out in the void around her. She could not give birth to a child in this terrible place. If she could not find a way out, she'd have to find a way to end her misery before her time came.
A little voice in the dark made her jump out of her skin. "Dany, it's me."
Dany darted for the door, both relief and panic taking over when she realized it was Arya. She seized her hands through the bars. "You must go!" Dany insisted frantically, "he's going to send his dogs after you tomorrow."
Arya froze for a moment and then shrugged. "I'll be alright, don't worry about me." She handed Dany a hard piece of bread and cheese. "I stole this from the kitchens."
Dany's heart warmed at her kindness, but Ramsay's threats loomed over her. "You have to find a way out of the castle."
"I won't need to. Robb is coming. He'll get us out of here." Arya jerked her head at a faraway noise. "I have to go," she whispered, "stay strong. It won't be long."
Tears of despair spilled down Dany's cheeks when she was once again alone. She ate her bread and cheese, hoping it would help her sleep as she leaned against the cold hard wall.
Just as she was drifting off a familiar wolf's howl pierced the silence.
Grey Wind.
She sat up straight and still, straining to hear, and then another howl came. Distinct and unmistakable, she doubled over and cried in relief.
Ghost.
A memory flashed in her mind of the hawk that viciously attacked Jon after he'd killed his master. Perhaps a piece of Jon was living through his white wolf, and he was coming to save her. She didn't know if that made her happy or sad, but she knew she needed to run her hands through his white fur and look into his red eyes and see for herself if a part of him lived there still.
Ghost was here, Robb was coming. They would not leave them here to die. She would be strong and soon she'd have Aemon in her arms and Ghost by her side.
A full moon hung low in the sky, casting a dim glow on the sloping snow drifts of the forest floor. The woods on the grounds of the Dreadfort looked like any other Northern wood, a tangle of naked oaks, evergreens and black briars but heavy in the crisp air was the marked smell of fear.
Grey Wind ran alongside, his nose close to the ground. Jon's stomach was an empty pit, nagging him so he wondered whether Ghost had eaten anything since leaving Castle Black. But he had a feeling his belly would be full before morning.
Raucous barking shattered the quiet and the white wolf bared his fangs.
Ramsay's dogs weren't hard to find, barreling through the forest noisily after some unknown prey, overconfident in their belief that they were the most dangerous predators in the woods.
They came upon them all at once, six in all. One bitch yelped in fear at the sight of them, but the grey haired mongrel at the front of the pack, flattened her ears and charged, her eager teeth seeking Jon's neck.
For all her pluck and strength, Jon was stronger and her windpipe collapsed between his jaws with a satisfying crunch. The red hound that nipped his hind leg met the same fate after he rounded on her, and it was then he caught an unmistakable scent.
Dany.
Dark red blood was splattered in the snow all around the carnage when they'd killed the last of them. Grey Wind's mouth was a crimson mess as he returned his nose to the forest floor. Jon heard his brother growl when he picked up a trail. Another familiar scent that made Jon's blood boil.
Greyjoy.
Jon charged ahead toward the smell of horses and men, and they found them in a clearing, six men on horseback cantering through the woods. One horse reared when they saw them, throwing her rider to the ground. The man didn't have time to find his feet before Grey Wind was on him.
Once Jon spotted Theon Greyjoy atop his chestnut mare, and the rest of the world faded away. The traitor's eyes grew wide before he turned his mare's head and threw her into a gallop along with the rest of his party, desperately seeking the keep.
Jon gave chase, hell-bent and blood thirsty, his fangs ever nearing the back leg of Theon's horse, but a woman's scream had him stopping in his tracks.
Sprinting back into the wood with Grey Wind, they followed the trail of dogs and the new smell of a female. He tried to tell himself it was not Dany, but hope leapt to his heart anyway as he ran past the ring of slaughtered dogs.
Another man on horseback, foolish enough to run ahead of his party, had a skinny young woman in his grasp, naked and wild eyed, pleading with him to let her go. He smiled at her smugly with broken teeth, unawares of anything that had transpired or the danger he was in.
Jon vaulted at the man, knocking him down from his horse and hard onto the ground. Blood was gushing from his throat before the man had time to realize what was happening, his horse screaming and running off into the night.
The woman was cowering on the snow covered ground, face half hidden by long brown hair, her skin covered in angry red scratches. Trembling, she looked between him and Grey Wind fearfully before jumping to her feet and dashing deeper into the woods. Under different circumstances he might have tried to help her, but until Dany and Arya were free, he'd focus on nothing else.
They sprinted toward the castle, but they'd given the hunters more than enough time to hide behind their high stone walls. Jon looked up at the ill omened castle. Rumors of torture chambers and trophies of human skin whirled in his mind.
Beside him Grey Wind closed his yellow eyes and howled mournfully up at the night sky, and Jon did the same. If nothing else, they could let the girls know they were there, and that they were coming.
Time was nothing in the dark. Days, hours, minutes were all meaningless. Dany was sick and lost in a sea of despair. Memories she thought she would cherish all of her days were now ripping her apart. Their past was gone and their future would never be. Sometimes she could see his face clearly, could almost feel his touch, but instead of joy it brought agony because she'd never know his touch again.
Ramsay didn't need to touch her to hurt her, she already longed for death.
At some point in the misery and gloom, a guard brought her water and a meager meal. For all his cruelty, Ramsay needed both her and her child alive for his fiendish scheme.
There was another girl there, somewhere in the pitch black, and she spoke to Dany here and there to pass the time. The girl seemed unbothered by Dany's short answers or sometimes lack of response entirely. Her name was Willow, she said, a girl from Hornwood. Ramsay's men had taken her and she didn't know how long she'd been there, but she was going to find a way to escape and run home.
"Will you come with me?" the girl asked hopefully, "I heard you have dragons… if I can get us out, you could fly us away from here."
Dany did not reply. It was a lovely thought. A fool's hope. But somehow she was certain Ramsay would not make it so easy.
A time later, Dany heard the blessed sound of Arya's voice at the edge of her cell.
"You're alright," Dany breathed, tears filling her eyes, "how did you stay hidden from his dogs?"
"Ghost and Grey Wind killed them all," Arya said in a rush, "Ramsay took them out hunting in the woods and not one of his girls returned. Did you not hear them howl last night?"
"I did," Dany replied, a smile breaking across her face for the first time in an age. But just as swiftly it fell as she wept.
Arya's hand was warm on her shoulder. "It won't be long now. Robb's men will be here soon." She handed Dany another bit of bread and cheese. "I have to go, but here, take this too." She pressed the cool handle of a knife into Dany's palm.
"You should keep it, in case you're found."
Arya shook her head. "I won't need it. Don't trust anyone here. For Ramsay, everything is a game."
Tears pricked Dany's eyes when Arya faded out of sight, and she tucked the little blade away in her skirts, returning to the prison of her memories.
It was still dark when Jon had risen from bed, dressing in new clothes without tears. Calling for a quick breakfast, he wolfed down duck eggs and bacon, tasting nothing. He tried not to think about whether or not Dany would have anything to break her fast.
The sun had only just begun to rise when his feet brought him just outside Robb's solar door. He didn't have to wait long for the King in the North to appear, alert and unsurprised to see him. Neither of them said anything until the door was closed behind them.
"What did you notice last night?" Jon asked.
Robb gave him a grim look as he unfolded a map on top of his desk. "Dead dogs, Theon… the girl…"
Jon swallowed his fear and disgust. "I saw the same," he said, unable to bring himself to add how he remembered Dany's scent on the hounds or the way the girl's body was covered in vicious red marks. He trained his eyes on the map. "I've thought it through a hundred times. If we march on the Dreadfort, he'll kill them. I know it." Saying the words out loud made him ill. "Theon will have told him that Daenerys cannot be harmed by fire. The moment he brings her outside, Dreamfyre will burn them all. And if we storm the walls, he'll kill them out of spite."
"We'll have to pass through his gate undetected."
"We need to draw him out, and get inside. Once we have them, he'll have no more advantages."
"You and I will gather our best men, and leave by tomorrow morning."
Jon nodded affirmatively though he felt a crushing weight on his chest. All he could do was hope that they would not be too late.
The wolves howled at night, and that was how she tracked the days. Five there had been. Night and day she could hear men and women screaming, sometimes from somewhere within the dungeon, and sometimes further away. The women's screams were the most terrible, often dissolving into the most inhuman sounds. When they started, Dany would squeeze her eyes shut and cover her ears, begging to every god she knew that it was not Arya.
But every night thus far, Arya would visit her without fail, bringing an offering of food. She could never stay long, but it was always a comfort, much like listening to Ghost howl. It allowed her to imagine Robb's men were drawing closer. All banners assembled, marching on the fort.
At her best moments, she could envision herself reuniting with her son. Of where they might go or what they might do, she was uncertain, but she would protect him, and make sure at least he was not alone.
In her worst moments, she wished for it all to end. Like the night, the girl Willow had come to her. Her cell had been left open by mistake, she said, and she'd taken the keys from the guard who was passed out drunk. "Will you come with me?" she asked frightfully, trembling so hard her voice shook, "We can fly home."
Dany had denied her, told her it was too easy, and she should go back to her cell. She'd run anyway, and hours later she was sure it was her gut wrenching screams echoing in the dark.
Games of pain.
The next night, instead of a visit from Arya, the sinister flame of a torch burned through the world. Dany knew it was him before he arrived. Two of his men were behind him, dragging a frightened young girl between them. He crouched down before her cell, the light from the torch stinging Dany's eyes.
"There's my dragon queen," he said, "I've brought someone to keep you company."
The girl stumbled as she was pushed inside. She had the look of a peasant, her rough spun dress torn and her face lined with dirt and tears. Ramsay laughed before he and his men left, the only source of light fading with them.
The girl curled into a ball and sobbed.
"Who are you?" Dany whispered.
"Myranda," she answered between shaky breaths.
"Why did they bring you here?"
"Bolton men came to my father's home and took me. Lord Bolton hurt me," she said, dissolving into a fit of tears again. "He said if he cannot hurt the dragon queen, he'll hurt me instead."
Dany's insides twisted. How could such a foul and cruel creature exist? She closed her eyes and drowned out the girl's cries.
That night Arya did not come, but the wolves still called.
A cold gust of wind shook the empty branches above where Jon stood atop a hill in the forest. It was his first night so near the Dreadfort on two legs, and it didn't make him feel any less useless. Rhaegal had followed from Winterfell while Jon had set out on horseback with Robb, Dacey Mormont, Greatjon Umber, Tormund and Mance Rayder. He'd sent the green dragon ahead lest he give away their position and he could be seen with his brothers, each making a tower of the castle their perch.
His comrades were in the distance behind him, Robb and Mance trying to decide if a fire would be worth the risk. Jon had muttered he'd take the first watch, impatient to get away from their prying eyes. Looks of awe for the walking dead man that he was, and looks of pity because his own wife had been taken by a monster and murderer.
Ghost's white fur appeared at the foot of the hill below, and Jon crouched in the snow to greet him. "I missed you, boy," he said, his spirits lifting gently.
Dacey joined them, tall and lanky, dressed in her leather garb. She crossed her arms, and leaned against the trunk of an oak tree. "Loyal beasts," she said, surveying the dragon infested castle, "refusing to abandon their mother."
Jon nodded gruffly, rising to his feet.
"We've fought together a time or two," Lady Mormont assured him, "we'll not fail now."
"She's pregnant," Jon confided, realizing he'd not said the words out loud to anyone.
Dacey did not falter. "All the more reason to pity the Bolton bastard. A fierce mother with a dragon in her belly, and the best of the North lying in wait to strike."
"I hope you're right."
"I am right," she replied confidently, "You came back from the dead to save her, and one woman from Bear Island is worth ten average men. There's nothing that can stop us."
It was becoming more difficult to distinguish wakefulness from dreaming, as Dany sat with her back against the wall of her cell. Sometimes she was back in Pentos, others at Harrenhal, in a cabin at sea, beyond the Wall… but her favorite times were with Jon and little Aemon at Winterfell. Those few precious months where they could pretend there was nothing and no one who could harm them.
Sometimes when the babe inside her would kick softly, she'd imagine none of it was real at all. They were together back at Castle Black or Winterfell preparing for the arrival of their daughter. Jon would be holding little Aemon while he prattled away, and Dany was content to watch while she felt this new life stirring inside of her.
A timid voice brought her crashing back to the present.
"Did Ramsay kill your husband?" Myranda asked.
The question was an icy dagger. "More or less," Dany responded with thinly veiled irritation.
"And you have a son?"
"How do you know these things about me?" Dany asked suspiciously.
"I meant no offense," Myranda stammered, "Ramsay's men were talking when… I've always wanted to be a mother... but I think I shall die here instead."
Dany rested her head back against the wall and thought of the night her son was born. "There's nothing like having your babe in your arms. I miss my son so much I can feel the loss in my bones."
"Does he have silver hair like yours?"
"No," she answered, smiling to herself, "he favors his father. Wild, dark curls. He makes a face like him too when he's grumpy, and sometimes when he laughs. He just started walking when… when we were leaving for Winterfell. Clumsy, little steps on his stubby legs." She laughed. "We were so proud.
"Jon was so happy when I told him I was pregnant again. I don't know what I was thinking but I thought he'd be upset. We were on the brink of war. I didn't even have the chance to tell him we're having a daughter."
Tears spilled down her cheeks again, and she wondered if they'd ever stop. Myranda found her in the dark and put her arm around her. Dany wasn't sure what to make of the girl, but she did like the comfort. .
They slept that way, huddled together in the cell until the torchlight came burning down the hall. Ramsay had returned with his men. The rusty turn of the lock had her heart jumping to her throat.
"Grab the peasant girl," Ramsay said unceremoniously.
"No!" Myranda cried, grasping Dany's hands until she was forced to let go, "Don't let them take me!"
"Don't hurt her!" Dany demanded.
"Don't hurt her?" Ramsay mocked, "we don't have to. Show me a dragon trick, and I'll let the girl stay here tonight, unharmed."
"That's preposterous," she said disconcertedly, "I cannot command them like dogs! Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor, a dragon is not a slave!"
"Very well," Ramsay replied coolly. Myranda's terrified screams echoed all around as she was taken away.
Dany covered her ears to block out the noise. It's Ramsay hurting the girl, not I, she told herself. Hanging her head in her hands, she waited for Ghost's comforting call.
The Bolton trophy room was the most fearful place Arya had ever been. Neither the haunted halls of Harrenhal nor the black cells of the Red Keep made her spine tingle the way these nightmare chambers did.
The rumors were true. The Bolton's hung the skin of their enemies on the wall like one would the pelt of a wolf or stag. Grisly books lay on a long table bound in human flesh, and gruesome paintings were displayed on unholy canvas.
Being in the room filled her with an icy panic that stayed with her from the moment she entered until the moment she left. Unfortunately, it was the room least often used, and where she was forced to spend the better parts of her days.
Sleep was elusive, but she had it here and there. When night fell, she could get around more easily finding her way to the kitchens and then down to the dungeons. Or at least she did until Ramsay's mistress had been thrown in with Dany.
She needed to warn her not to trust the stupid girl.
It was early afternoon and her stomach grumbled from where she lay underneath the table. Robb would come soon, she told herself. Ghost and Grey Wind were already here, and no doubt they would try to find a way into the castle.
Suddenly the door creaked open and her heart lurched. Quickly she crawled away from the table and slid behind a grotesque tapestry. Slowing her breaths, she squeezed her eyes shut and pressed herself into the wall, trying not to think of the way the tapestry touched her cheek.
She fought a rising panic as she heard Ramsay's voice. "I've not shown you this room before."
"Your trophy room is not a well kept secret," Theon said nonchalantly, but Arya knew him well enough to catch the tinge of fear in his voice.
"Arya Stark's whereabouts," Ramsay said icily, "that's a well kept secret." Her belly cramped to hear the sound of her name.
"She's wild," Theon said bitterly, "she'll turn up somewhere. She may be able to hide, but she can't escape."
"All of my dogs have been slaughtered, and no doubt Robb Stark is preparing to march, if he has not left already."
"But you have the Targaryen girl, and two dragons."
"They're useless to me if I cannot control them."
"She'll give birth soon enough, and then she'll do anything you ask."
"She'd obey me now if you'd have done what you promised."
"I tried," Theon said defensively, "I could not get to the boy, he's guarded day and night."
"You failed."
"I murdered Jon Snow, and took his wife and sister hostage, on dragon back no less. I brought them directly to you. You should be grateful to me."
"Grateful? The whole of the North will be pressing down upon us, and I can't get the girl to get her dragons to so much as light a candle for me."
"Perhaps you need to be more persuasive."
"Yes. Perhaps you're right."
Arya didn't move until long after they had left, creeping out cautiously into the now empty halls in the dim torchlight. She was about to take her familiar path toward the kitchens when a great black bird landed in front of her.
She covered her mouth to conceal a startled gasp. "Where did you come from?" she whispered.
"Come," the bird squawked too loudly, "come, come, come."
"Shut up, you stupid bird!" Arya scolded in hushed tones.
"Come," it said once more before flying down the corridor. For a moment, Arya wondered if it had gone, when she heard it call for her again. Dread gnawed at her insides, but she sprinted down the hall toward the bird, following as it led her down long halls, a steep spiral staircase and finally out into the open courtyard.
She filled her lungs with the cold fresh air, hope springing in her chest as the bird led her to an unguarded postern gate. Her heart was hammering, but she dared not look behind her. Once they were out of the castle, the raven flew higher. "Come," it cawed down at her, leading her into the treeline.
It was hard to see and in her haste she slipped carelessly on the icy ground more than once. Just when she thought her lungs would burst, the raven stopped, perched high up on the branch of a great oak tree.
She watched him expectantly as she caught her breath, until red and yellow eyes caught her attention.
A dreadful scream rose up from the keep, the echos reaching their forest camp. Jon's eyes were pinned on the castle, his fists clenching and unclenching.
"We can't wait anymore," Jon said to his party, "we have to go now."
Tormund clamped a great hand on his shoulder. "Look at them," he said, sweeping his hands toward the dragons flying serenely about the keep, "Do they look bothered? That's not her screaming."
"Arya," Robb said gravely.
A queer feeling traveled up Jon's spine and in his mind's eye he saw his little sister's wry grin.
"I feel her too."
Red and yellow eyes glowed in the dark, and Jon froze when Ghost and Grey Wind appeared, Arya arms clinging to the white wolf's fur. Her round face was covered in dirt, her clothes no better than rags.
Jon and Robb rushed to meet her.
"Jon?!" she cried, stumbling to the ground. Tears made trails down her dirty cheeks while Jon helped her to her feet.
He removed his cloak and wrapped it around her. "It's me, little sister."
Her bottom lip trembled and she wiped her nose. "You were dead."
"Aye, I was," he admitted, messing her hair, "Thoros brought me back."
She threw her little arms around him and they each held the other tightly. After an age, she let go and hugged Robb as well.
Urgency returning, Jon asked, "Where's Dany?"
Arya hung her head. "She's still down there," she said dejectedly, "I couldn't help her. I tried Jon, I really did! I left to find help." She looked so small in his cloak as tears welled in her eyes again.
"It's alright," he assured her, "I know you did."
Robb handed her a jug of water. "Where is he keeping her?"
"His dungeon," she told them before gulping down the water greedily, "It's a terrible place."
Tension built in Jon's body and he reminded himself he needed to stay strong. "Has he hurt her?"
"No," she said firmly, "He tried when we first arrived, but if he touches her the dragons go mad."
Resentment festered inside him, but at least this gave them time.
"He doesn't give her enough to eat," Arya added angrily, "I was sneaking her food, until he planted his bedwarmer down there as a spy. I wouldn't have left her otherwise, but there was nothing I could do for her anymore."
"We're going to get her out," Robb said, "you did everything you could."
"How did you escape?" Jon asked.
"I've been hiding within the castle walls. I wasn't planning on running, but the big raven from Castle Black appeared. He led me to an unguarded gate I'd not seen before, and right to Ghost and Grey Wind."
Jon felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. "Mormont's raven?" She nodded and he shook the eerie feeling away. "How was she when you saw her last?"
Arya paused, considering her words. "As well as could be expected."
He refrained from asking her any more questions until she'd settled, busying himself with brushing down his horse and cleaning his sword. After she'd warmed herself by the fire and filled herself on roasted chicken he came to sit beside her.
She eyed him sadly, guilt weighing down her small shoulders.
"I'd have spared you all of this, little sister," he told her, "but if this is how it had to be, I'm glad Dany had you there to look after her."
"I didn't want to leave her."
"I know. I'm going to get her out, and everything you can tell me will help. Now, what is it you're afraid to tell me?"
"Ramsay's not a normal man. Everything you've heard about him is true. The skins, the girls in the woods… everything. His plan has been to break Dany so that she will command the dragons on his behalf, and if that didn't work he had other plans."
"Tell me."
"Once Dany gives birth, he plans to use the babe to control her."
Rage throbbed in him like a heartbeat. "Anything else I should know?"
"He's angry. His plans are not working and he blames Theon for losing me. His mistress Myranda is almost as wicked as him. She lies to Dany and they pretend to hurt her when Dany will not do what he asks."
Jon tasted blood. "We have to draw him out of the castle, but the coward has not come outside his gate since we arrived."
"He'd come for me," she said eagerly, "He wishes to use me to hurt Dany.. and he likes a good chase."
Sometime the next day, Myranda was thrown back inside Dany's cell. The girl whimpered and limped about, but Dany found she could not muster any pity. In fact, she found there was little she could feel at all. As time wore on, she ignored the girl's attempts at conversation preferring to stay lost in her thoughts.
When Ramsay visited again, she found she didn't feel fear either.
"My dragon queen," he greeted, "you don't look well. These are harsh conditions for someone of your status."
Dany observed him boredly.
"You deserve to be somewhere where you can see the sun and hear the birds chirp," he went on, giving her his best attempt at a smile, "This is no place for a girl like you."
"The sooner you make your request," she said curtly, "the sooner I can say no."
He chuckled at her defiance. "I've not come to make you a request. I've come to give you a choice. You can stay down here for the rest of your days. You can birth your welp on the dirt floor where it will live and die in total darkness surrounded by rats or... you can become my bride and I will bring you and your child under my protection."
A twist of revulsion brought her out of her trance, and she gritted her teeth. "I choose death and darkness."
Her resistance only seemed to please him. "I suppose a queen requires something more. A wedding gift perhaps?"
A commotion in the dark, grunting and struggling as a man was thrown into the cell across from her. Ramsay held up his torch so that the light revealed Theon Greyjoy.
The sight of him made her shake with fury.
"Marry me," Ramsay said, "and not only will you and your babe live in safety and comfort, but I'll give you something I know you desire above all things. The life of the man who took your bastard husband."
Bewilderment shone in the traitor's eyes, and Dany glared at him.
Ramsay knelt beside her and spoke in hushed tones. "You can do with him anything you like. You can make it slow or quick. Keep him alive and torture him until the end of your days, it matters not to me. And then together, we can lay low all of your enemies."
Numbness swept over her body again, and ever so slowly, her hand moved to the cold handle of the knife in her skirts. "What I desire you can't give me," she replied, "No one can."
"Think on it," Ramsay said, undeterred, "I'll leave him here, and you can imagine all the ways you'd like to see him die."
"I've given my answer," Dany spat, she squeezed the handle of the blade tightly, "No amount of time will change it! Robb Stark will be here soon with the whole of the North, and he'll be the one to let me choose how each of you die!"
Ramsay exchanged looks with his men before they all broke out into raucous laughter. Steadily she held the knife, waiting for the right moment.
"Robb Stark and the whole of the North?" Lord Bolton smirked, "Why would they march for you? Your dragons are a menace and what are you to the Starks?"
His words touched fears she'd tried to hide from herself. "I am his brother's wife."
"Bastard brother. Or cousin, the way you tell it. Either way, he's dead," Ramsay said with a mean smile, "No, my queen, you are more trouble to him than you are worth."
Her nose stung sharply as she tried to keep the tears from forming. "He would never leave Arya," she said with certainty, "He will come for Arya."
Ramsay covered his mouth in feigned surprise. "Oh my, he'll be disappointed then," he leaned closer and whispered, "the wolf-girl has met an unfortunate end."
Her arms went limp, the knife slipping quietly from her fingers. "You're lying!" she cried.
"Am I? Has she been by to see you lately? Bring you more bread from my kitchens? No, she hasn't." The walls were closing in, and it was difficult to breathe. "Didn't think I knew about that? I know everything that happens in my castle. Your friend Willow told me all about it. A flayed woman has no secrets."
She retched up her rations and then fought to find breath. There was no way out. Death would be her only release.
"There, there, my queen," Ramsay taunted her, "The sooner you accept the way things are, the sooner I can bring an end to your suffering. No one is coming for you. I am your only salvation."
As Ramsay left, the light went with him and the world blacked out once again. Tears washed down her cheeks, and everything around her felt strange and unfamiliar.
"Perhaps you should reconsider his offer," Myranda squeaked in the dark, "perhaps we can both get out of here." She rubbed Dany's back.
"Don't touch me!" Dany shouted, "Stay away from me!" Fingers scrambling for the knife in the dark, she hid it back within her skirts.
Whether hours or moments later, Dany could not be sure, but eventually her breath came easier and her tears dried up. Crawling in the dark, she peered through the bars toward Theon's cell, seeing nothing but pitch black.
"Jon's gods have seen fit to bring me a scrap of comfort," she said, "Was it worth it, Theon Turncloak? You traitorous dog?"
"I didn't know what he was like," Theon mumbled in the dark.
Dany grabbed the cold bars, wishing he could see the glare she was giving him. "Didn't know? You killed my husband for someone you didn't even understand?"
"I only wanted a chance at something that's rightfully mine. Something that was taken from me! Same as you."
"Same as me?" Dany said incredulously, "You're nothing like me. I'd never stoop so low."
"Robb's men will come. No matter what he says. I could try to find a way to get us out," Theon said wildly, "All we have to do is make it outside and then you can call the dragons to-"
"To what? To save you? Do you think that is what I want?" Dany was holding the bars so firmly she couldn't feel her fingertips, "I cannot wait to hear your screams. I only hope Ramsay doesn't kill you. I will be freed from this cell and I'm going to grant myself the honor of taking your head!"
"Arya's not dead," he offered.
"Why should I believe you?"
"Why do you think I'm down here? The wild little bitch has been evading us the entire time. Ramsay was counting on having some control over you before Robb arrives."
"Yes, that's right. You brought Arya because you couldn't get your hands on my son."
"No one ever said war was pretty."
"Tell me this, Theon Turncloak, for all your words are worth, was my son safe when we left Castle Black?"
"Ghost was with him. No one could touch him."
That was something she could cling to when she needed to be brave. She might never escape, but she knew at very least, little Aemon was safe.
