Sunrise crept from behind the tree line and light poured over the furs that kept naked bodies entwined. It broke apart my slumber; it's harsh and unfiltered rays scaring away sleep induced haze that had clouded the memories of nights past.
Ramsay's head was buried underneath lavish goose-feathered pillows, tousled hair still matted with sweat from ravenous hands and stuck in disarray against the crisp white bedding. I contemplated ripping it from his scalp. An excitable thought indeed.
I imagined crawling on top of his bare chest and carving a knife from ear to ear. Not to kill him, only to unleash whatever demon animated him in such breathtaking colours when he erupted with violence. I could stand there and take every ounce of force and fury for hours if only allowed to soak in the torrent of ferocity that would set my soul on fire once more.
"I feel you watching me, girl."
If I hadn't learned to always brace myself for some form of impact I might have jumped from my skin. Since that were not the case, I instead calmly rolled away from the wolf in wait and rested my chin on a pillow that seemed a safe distance away. A hand shot from between the furs and caught my chin, forcing me back between iron arms and giving a short squeeze of warning. It seems my guesswork had been incorrect. There was no fire in his eyes as he looked down at me, but the calculating stare confirmed that the silence on his lips had not touched his mind. It were not my place to ask what the Lord chose to muse over - nor did I have the courage to delve into a conversation about the workings of his wicked thoughts.
Abruptly, the fingers resting against my cheeks began to unsheathe nails into the skin beneath them. I winced.
"Do you know who you belong to, little Ghost?" The question was as pressing and urgent as the claws that anchored me in place.
"You, my Lord."
His hand tightened painfully.
"Correct. Will you ever dare to run from me again, stupid girl?"
"Never again, my Lord." I could hardly spit the words out past his hand, but my answer was reflexive and without hesitance.
Squeeze.
"Will you ever question my authority or resist my command?"
Now unable to speak with hands like a vice muzzling my jaw I merely urged my own eyes to speak of the subservience that had held true for so long before recent rebellion. A dignified huff bristled the hair that wrapped around my cheeks, but my eyes never wavered from his own. Seemingly satisfied with my unspoken obedience, a smile born for battle emerged from a typically unwavering scowl. As if the walls could stack with secrets or the birds in the trees could sing tales of his treachery Ramsay leered closer and let parted lips rest tentatively against my ear, a whisper breaking what awful silence had settled in the air.
"You have shown me that even mongrels can be trained with the right hand." With lips made from glass and a voice cut with steel he kissed the words into my neck. "You will be my greatest weapon in the war to come, pet. You will perform as the lion in lamb skin. Like the Tears of Lys those that consume you will not taste their demise as you eat them alive. You will be my retribution."
"My Lord, I think war is better lef—"
"Hush now," he rolled on top of my body. "I do not care what you think. You will not think. You will perform this task as brainlessly as a puppet tied with strings - for you are mine and I will it so." I knew in that moment I would perform whatever it took for him to keep staring at me like I was the only solution for his reprisal. I needed him to keep needing me. I could not go back to the cell. I would not.
"You will be the sword that drives Jon Snow to his knees before me, my sweet little menace. You will pluck his heart from his ribcage and kneel at my feet as you were born to do as it shrivels and dies in your bloody hands. Together we will feast on the organ. Together we will dance on his grave. Together, little Ghost, we will break the bastard."