"Reek?"
Through the stillness his voice cut its way like the light from a torch cleaving a path through a dark forest.
He felt dizzy, felt as though he was swaying back and forth even though he knew he was laying still on the hay-strown floor. Ramsay blinked his eyes rapidly and shook his head, trying to gain focus on Reek's face which gradually became clearer as he did. Once he had him in focus, he lay with his eyes closed tightly together for a moment then opened them again cautiously, half-expecting the ragged man to be gone from sight, but Reek was still there, standing at exactly the same spot as before, with his head slightly lowered and eyes fastened to the ground like the obedient dog Ramsay had trained him to be.
Impossible. Had he succumbed to exhaustion and slipped into a dream? Was it not the only reasonable explanation for the strange sight that now unfolded before his eyes? Last Ramsay heard Theon Greyjoy was thousands of miles removed from the North; an exile in a foreign land, spending his days bowing and scraping before the Targaryen wench, not lingering here in the clammy dungeon of the Dreadfort, playing the part of a now silent, battered accuser.
But this is no dream, a voice inside his head rationalized then, For how can it be a dream if I can still smell him? As if to verify a second time, Ramsay stuck his nose up and took a deep sniff. The wretched odour hit him like a pungent wall and made tears well up in his eyes. It was the scent of his creation indeed; of rot and dirt and shit, of dried blood and soaked fur, of someone who had been denied human decency for so long he had adopted the ways of a beast instead.
In that moment the smell of Reek (unbearable to most but not to Ramsay, never to Ramsay) reminded him of past accomplishments; how he had forced Theon, the once so arrogant prince of the Ironborne filled to the brim with self-confidence and entitlement, to his knees by the mere threat of the flaying knife, how he had made him endure unspeakable humiliations times over for nothing but his own amusement. It reminded him of the hunts and the girls, of the many faceless victims of his who had taken their last breath, strapped to a Bolton Cross; the last words they heard as they writhed in their death struggle were his whispers about whatever would cause the most terror in their final moments. That their mother, son or daughter were next. That hell was waiting for them. That there was no god at all.
Ramsay lay still for a moment, hypnotized by Reek's scent before he was snapped out of his reminiscing by the sound of the man's quivering voice.
"M-master"
"Reek…I thought you left me" Ramsay replied and swallowed the saliva that had gathered in his mouth. It tasted like a mixture of dirt and Euron still, and provoked his gag reflex, so he leaned forward to vomit but could, despite great effort, only produce a dry heave that left him with nothing but an even sorer throat and lungs that felt like they had been set ablaze. After he was done retching loudly, he lifted his head again meeting Reek's gaze who immediately broke it off by looking away like the very idea of gaining eye contact with Ramsay could earn him a flogging.
"No, Master. I could never leave you."
Ramsay, exhausted from the retching still, couldn't help but smile to himself at the thought of the un-escapable impact he had had on Theon's existence. Even now, after all he had been through and even though he had not thought it possible to ever feel that way again, his creation still brought him a sense of fulfilment. That's right, my pet. I made you who you are. There is no running from me. Not ever.
He tried to move his feet so that he could stand, but the pain in his stomach and bruised balls – a compliment of Hobb's earlier retaliation- prevented it; all he managed was a half crouch, and after a few painful seconds he let himself slip back onto the ground. Biting his lower lip, he crawled on all fours towards the bars and Reek, now shifting nervously from foot to foot in a fast tempo as if the very ground beneath him was made from white-hot rocks. Once there, Ramsay grabbed a hold of the metal trying to gain the leverage to get to his feet, but the strain of standing had made him even more dizzy, and soon he had no other choice but to give up, muttering a strained 'shit' as he slipped back onto the ground.
Instead his hand shot out at Reek, who flinched and took a step backwards out of Ramsay's reach. "Please, Master…no…" Ramsay made an annoyed sound and stuck his head between the bars as far as he possibly could. Frantically his wild eyes searched the dungeon trying to spot Hobbs, but the guard was nowhere to be seen.
"Release me, Reek. As your Lord, I demand that you release me! Kill the guard and seize the keys from around his neck", his whisper was rough. Desperate. He nodded frantically as his eyes darted back to Reek. "Your treason is forgiven! I will let you sleep at the foot of my bed tonight; y-you can even feed of the scraps from dinner if you want".
A long pause followed. "Forgive me, Master, but I cannot d-do that" Reek swallowed loudly, then brought his face up revealing that tears had welled up in his eyes. "I am n-not really here"
No. Of course you're not. Ramsay gave his former submissive a sad smile of acceptance before sinking back on his rear end. He pinched the inside of his wrist but found that it still hurt. And I am not dead either… Perhaps I've just gone mad?It seemed reasonable given the circumstances. Perhaps the poison the guard had fed him earlier that night had finally done what Euron's assault couldn't: turn him completely mad.
"Have you come back to haunt me then?" He growled, then let out a weak snort. "Can you not see I've suffered your cursed family enough?"
"I'm sorry, Master" Reek's tone had turned sadder, apologetic almost. His shuffling finally stopped, and for the first time in a long time he looked directly into Ramsay's eyes. "I am still of this world"
Silence filled the room once again. Ramsay swallowed hard and cleared his throat. "Well, I am glad to hear it. I've missed you terribly and I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye". He nodded his head once in acknowledgement. "Yes. I missed you, despite of what you did… but I've still got a bone to pick with you, Reek. You killed Myranda" He laughed to himself and shook his finger, waving it in a manic motion in front of his face "you killed my girl, threw her over the wall and cracked her head open like an egg."
"I didn't mean to…sh-she tried to stop us, tried to kill Lady Sansa" Reek, now clearly frightened, took a step back as if he was getting ready to flee his master's wrath. "What are you doing! Get back here!" Ramsay sneered, but his aggression only seemed to scare the ragged creature more. Giving him one last fearful look, Reek turned and disappeared into the shadows.
Realizing that his Reek was about to leave for good, Ramsay's felt a wave of regret wash over him and his demeanour quickly changed. Reek was still the only friendly company he had had since he had been taken captive, and by the gods - and whether it was real or not - how he needed it. "Come back….please. Don't leave me here alone. I'll forgive you for Myranda if you come back". He got up on his knees and grabbed a hold of the bars, looking into the dark corner where Reek had disappeared with pleading eyes.
A moment passed. Nothing but the sound of Ramsay's breathing filled the room. "Please". How it used to be so unlike him to beg for anything, now it seemed almost a common thing for him to do so and he had Euron to thank for that. One day, Reek…I'm going to kill your uncle.In the midst of feeling afraid of being left alone, the hatred of his tormentor suddenly filled him to such extent that he almost forgot about Reek's disappearance. I'm going to peel the skin of his cursed face, strip by strip, and feed it to him. Before I die I am going to… In the corner something stirred and Ramsay snatched his murderous thoughts back to his surroundings. "Reek…" Again there was nothing but silence. Then, out of the shadows stepped Reek.
He stood for a few seconds as if arguing with himself whether or not his master's plea was a trap, before he cautiously approached the bars again, his head lowered and his body visibly quivering. Ramsay exhaled with relief as he watched Reek coming to a halt a few feet away from the bars. He slid back on his rear end. "That's right Reek. Come back to me…I won't hurt you - I promise."
Even though he had a thousand questions at the ready - they had been apart for a long time after all - Ramsay waited until Reek had calmed down a bit and stopped shuffling his feet nervously back and forth before he spoke. "Is it true what they say? Have you and your sister bent the knee to Daenerys Targaryen? Tsk, tsk Reek. What will your uncle have to say about that I wonder?" He pictured Theon falling to his knees in front of the silver-haired queen, begging her protection like he had pleaded with Ramsay times over not to flay any more of the fingers on his already crippled hands. "Theon Turncloak has, Master. Not I" Even in the gloom of the dungeon Reek's eyes seemed huge with fright, the whites showing all around. "I am loyal to you and you alone!"
"Good Reek…very good" Ramsay rasped and in that moment realized that he envied Theon still. Though the fact that he had never travelled beyond the Northern Kingdom never bothered him before, it now made him wish that he had seen more of the world when he had the chance, perhaps insisted on his father bringing him along when he marched South with the young wolf. His request would most likely have fallen on deaf ears, but who knew? Perhaps Roose would have given in for once. Maybe he could even have been in attendance at the Red Wedding and had the honour of disposing Robb Stark himself.
"What is she like? Tell me about her. Is her army as great as they say? And what about her tits? Are they big like juicy melons or little dried up things like your sister's?" He snickered at his own words, but then something inside him broke and his snicker turned into a light sob instead.
Reek's blue eyes, lighter in colour than Euron's but likewise in tilt and shape, shone wet in the torchlight. "Master…what troubles you?". Ramsay buried his hands in his hair. "I am to die soon and I am…"
Afraid…I am afraid.
He couldn't bear to utter the words so instead he clapped his hands together once, distracting himself from the shameful feeling of despair that ripped through him like a fire out of control."Come'on. Entertain me, Reek. It's the least you can do after all that betrayal you've been doing. Tell me about your Dragon Queen"
Once again Reek's gaze turned to the floor in front of him. "They call her the breaker of chains. She frees the slaves in the cities that fall under her command. Her army is vast and her people loyal to the death, but her dragons…the dragons are her true strength. She will use them to claim the Irontrone, and she will be victorious. Not even the Lannisters can stop her now." He paused "and she does have fine tits."
Ramsay laughed weakly and sniffed. For a while they both stayed silent. "Do you know of the things your uncle has done to me" Reek looked up from the ground, a deep sorrow was visible on his face as he nodded his head reluctantly. "I do."
Ramsay swallowed as tears started to well up in his eyes again. "He will come back for me, I know it. He's not done with me yet. What should I do? How can I sway him from it, Reek?" He was trembling now, tears running down his cheeks like small rivers. "Do what he says" Reek's answer came without hesitation. "You must do what he says, Master. He will only hurt you more if you resist". "What could he possibly do to me he hasn't already done. It can't be worse". Reek shook his head manically. "It can. It can always be worse." The words made Ramsay shudder. How is that possible? No, Reek, you fool. You don't know what that means. I never went to that place. I never defiled you, the way he has me. Nothing is worse than that.
"L-La-Lady Sansa", Reek exclaimed suddenly as if he could read Ramsay's mind. Ramsay's heart stopped.No… he wouldn't dare... "Will Sansa know of my shame? Tell me truly!" he exclaimed, almost spitting out the words. The thought of her knowing what had been done to him, the torture, the humiliations, the rapes made his stomach turn. "I cannot bare the thought, Reek. I would rather die a thousand times over than have that happen!" His hands closed tight around the iron bars, squeezing them until his knuckles turned white. "please, tell me that my secret dies with me!" Of course he knew already that Reek only knew the things he knew – he was a figment of his imagination after all - nevertheless he needed the phantom's reassurance that his worst nightmare would not come true. Reek shook his head. "I cannot tell. He is not predictable" He took a step forward and grabbed the bars, sliding down to Ramsay's eyelevel. "Do what he says, Master, it is your best chance-".
"Yes. Do what he says m'lord" A woman's voice, purring and playful like a cat just before it sank its claws into your arm, interrupted Reek midsentence. Osha, the wildling wench, stepped into the light. She walked up to the bars next to Reek, and just stood there staring into the cell at Ramsay. She looked like he remembered her, clad in that same burlap dress he had made her wear when he had summoned her, luring her into the trap that would ultimately kill her; even the black oozing wound made by the dagger he had rammed into her throat was there, tarnishing her milky skin like an ink-splotch on an otherwise empty piece of parchment.
"Hello m'lord" she nodded her head towards Reek who quickly scurried a few feet away as if she was a mad dog threatening to bite him. Osha gave him a sly smile then turned her attention to Ramsay. "Little Lord Bolton… I'd bet you'd wish that my knife found your throat by now." A new set of footsteps echoed ominously against the stone floor and Ramsay saw something move in the shadows. "Come on out Rickon. His lordship cannot hurt you anymore" Osha's smile grew wide "Looks to me like he is the one who's doing the suffering now."
Slowly, insecurely, a tall, lanky figure in the shape of a man stepped into the light. Ramsay saw his face as he came to a halt next to Osha. It was Rickon Stark. The curly-headed boy was pale with large eyes filled with a cold sadness. Quickly, he slipped behind Osha, hiding behind her like a frightened child would its mother. Piercing his chest was the arrow Ramsay had shot through him when they had played his little game on the battlefield outside Winterfell.
They remained like so for several minutes, silently staring at him through the bars. Ramsay started to tremble. Quickly, he crept into the corner as far from the bars as he could possible get and cowered there. He couldn't bare looking at them. This was his trial and they were here to judge him. Ramsay closed his eyes and put his head between his knees. "Go away".He whispered. "Leave me be."
"Look at us, Ramsay Snow." The ghost of Osha ordered, voice rising. Trembling, Ramsay lifted his head. The dungeon was now packed full with the ghost of his victims. Hundreds of flayed men, women and children, the Ironborn from Winterfell and Moat Cailin, the nameless maids he had hunted down, raped and killed, even his stepmother Walda Frey was there, lined up in long rows outside his cell like they were soldiers in an army of the dead. They all stood staring at him in silence, their rotting eyes filled with accusations and anger.
He met Reek's eyes. A pity shone in them as if he wanted to help Ramsay but couldn't. "I'm sorry, Master" he mouthed the words, his voice so low it could hardly be heard. He stepped back into the shadows and disappeared, leaving Ramsay alone with Osha and her army.
Then, the silence shattered as the ghosts started screaming, crying, pleading, begging like they had done in their last desperate minutes of life before Ramsay had put them to eternal rest. He covered his ears to protect himself from the noise, but still the tormented cries penetrated his brain. For what seemed like hours on end the ghost filled the dungeon with their ear-piercing sorrowful wails, making him clutch his head for fear his skull would crack wide open.
And finally, when he couldn't take it anymore, Ramsay screamed with them.
From his place in the shadows the King of Salt and Rock stood leaning up against the damp stone wall; his teeth exposed in a wide grin, watching in silence as his prisoner thrashed and squirmed on the cell floor like a soul in torment.
A few minutes later – after he had grown tired of Ramsay's apparently endless screaming – he turned and walked to the dungeon door, leaving it open as he exited the room. There was no reason for him to linger any further. He had gotten what he came for.