The cold hit me first. A gleaming vinework of frost crept through the cracks of the woodwork and had the bed of hay transform into a needlework of ice that poked and prodded at already sore skin. The pinhole that were my window merely cast the black hole I had been hovelled up in with a dismal grey shadow that did nothing to help chase away the sadness - nor the chill. Unanswered cries had long since been forgotten, instead turning to a sullen silence as the familiar lash of horse whip became my only comfort of other life. The knowledge that someone yielded that whip was enough to keep the loneliness away. If I were quiet for long enough I could even match my breathing to the tiring sigh of the mounts and ease back into unconsciousness. Slumber was no escape. Ramsay's rage and abrupt jealousy came flooding back in flash memories that caused an already developed headache to worsen with the long days that passed. The idea versus reality of sending me to the enemy had twisted him in a drunken stupor the night before my departure. Harsh reminders of my previous disloyalty were carried out with iron fists as the beast within the man lost himself to carnage. I revelled in all his fire and let the memory of his onslaught warm my bones in the crate as it rocked steadily on.In my silence I had my own quiet doubts about my Lord's great scheme. Uncertainty had crept into troubled thoughts long before his own insecurities had showered me in temper. I did not believe that Jon Snow had been titled King in the North through naivety. How could I lure him into Ramsay's snare without raising suspicion? If not from him then from his council? Ramsay seemed to think that Jon were too honourable a man to turn me away from the wall. The rest was an equal bid of time and trust. I did not have the luxury of such confidence. It was hard to have confidence in anything when you were rotting away in your own filth expecting a man with no debt to you for saviour. A saviour that would end in his betrayal at that. Jon Snow's kindness had touched me once before. I remembered warm eyes and soft words that had lulled me into a false sense of security. Ramsay's cold stare and sharp tongue were much more dependable. I knew where my loyalties must lie, yet the thought of turning out the King in the North to my Lord still settled as an uneasy guilt in my gut. I pushed it away. I could not fail him. I would not. Jon Snow's betrayal would be my devout redemption.
The crate had been still for so long I worried it had become buried in the snow. The sound of wood scraping against wagon signaled that my journey had come to an end. My new cage had fallen with a deft thud to the earth below, jarring me into consciousness for the possibly endless wait ahead.After the distant sounds of the horses had left me alone in the world I was overwhelmed with nothing but silence and the stench of the now foul hay. My lungs became hot and heavy with the air they consumed. My gut both felt like it had doubled in size and rotted away all at once in my belly. My head. Gods, my head felt like a new heart had grown inside of it - like a new organ was splitting its way between skull and mush and creating an entirely new beat that pulsed agonizingly between sore eyes. God, if I died here Ramsay would reanimate my corpse for the singular purpose of killing me slowly. My minuscule peep hole seemed to be growing smaller in the woodwork. Panic was a short visit away; now threatening to bubble over and drown me in the confined space. I could have cried if exhaustion hadn't stripped me of the energy to do so.Someone was coming.The faint sounds of leather boot crunching crisp snow only became clearer once my hearing had zeroed in on the footsteps."Help." The words rasped from between parched lips, the vibration of the noise ripping my voice out from it's hiatus painfully. The low murmur of male chatter paused momentarily. They were listening. I cocked one leg out and kicked hard at the crate, a scream clearing the dust from my airways as excruciating pain extended through the muscle."Careful, Jon.. it could be an animal.""It was a woman, Sam. A scream.""Alright then. Careful, Jon. it could be a dangerous woman."Sam seemed disheartened by Jon's obvious lack of concern. I found it unnerving, too."Danger surrounds us from every side and you really chose to chastise me over searching for a woman lost in the snow? Not another word. Unless you're about to tell me you've found her."Jon's voice had been biting and impatient with his companion. The gentle hum that usually sang with his words had been chased away with bitterness. Perhaps the cold could change people, too. Perhaps the cold had changed Jon like the fire had changed me.The lid of the crate cracked and moaned as it was ripped away from it's panel. An evening glow poured in over my figure, curled up like a newborn and wide eyed like a lamb.Jon Snow stared down at me with searching eyes, the only hint of recognition was the singular cock of one dark brow as his gaze rested on my face."Ghost.."Two hands caught my arms and pulled me from the abyss. The winter chill took hold of my frame and had me shaking like a leaf in the breeze before the Lord and his companion; who both stared on with a mixture of horror on Sam's part to little more than a deeply brooding expression from the King himself."Where is Ramsay?" I couldn't place his tone. It unnerved my composure. With new intentions I felt uneasy in his presence and if he were anything like Ramsay he would smell the deceit and lash me for it in the snow."I don't know, my Lord."Adrenaline began to pulse with the worry of discovery. I wondered if Jon Snow kept a beast locked away inside of him, too. The thought of anger blazing over his not-so-gentle gaze made me shudder in anticipation. Or perhaps it was the cold."Jon.." Sam appeared from the sidelines and held out a crumpled piece of parchment with tentative fingertips. The poor man looked as if the paper might grow teeth and bite him. It didn't escape anyone's notice that the letter were sealed with a dark crimson thumbprint that had no doubt been pressed with my own blood. I cringed. Jon took the paper ripped the seal off without a word, his eyes becoming lost between the furrow of his brows. He offered the note to me and straightened himself out to his full height, watching my face for any visual clues as to what on earth had happened to have me abandoned in a box in the middle of the north."It seems your Lord is finally finished hunting you, Ghost," a half smile appeared somewhere on his face, but it was lost to the turmoil that bubbled in his brain, "Sam, ready the horses. The lady needs to see the Maester." Jon put a leather bound hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently. It was the first form of comfort I had encountered in what felt like a lifetime. As the men began to bustle with the horses and Jon wrapped a familiar fur coat around my shoulders I took a moment to peer at the note, feeling my heart sink at the words whether I knew them to be a lie or not.
Our valiant new King in the North,
I do not care for broken toys. Your meddling corrupted my creature with maddened ideals of escape. I had wished to kill her, but upon remembering your select interest in my property I thought I would for once think of the less fortunate and offer her to you and your men. A gift. A peace offering, if you will. Please use her as she was made to be used. Try not to let the thought of my fucking her become a bother during any future pleasure you wish to indulge yourself in.
Kill her if you wish, but please do send me an invitation to witness her demise. I have longed to see the blood run down her once beautiful body. It would be a woeful shame to not be allowed to witness the event.
Ramsay of House Bolton, Lord of Winterfell.