Chapter Thirteen

Hook, Line, and Sinker

Ramsay had offered objection to being used as live bait, even if a bit half-heartedly, but as expected Sansa was uninterested in hearing it, downright ignoring him to continue discussing the details of her plans with Eroc. Once she had told him everything, though, Ramsay finally realized that he had never been put in danger with her plan.

Knowing that put him at considerable ease, even though Sansa did warn that it remained possible that his would-be killers might still find a way around her defenses to Ramsay, making Eroc the last line of defense. As much as Ramsay hated Eroc, he had no doubts that the wildling would guard him efficiently; he was tirelessly vigilant.

Thusly reassured he was then told that he would have to remain secluded, holed away from everyone and everything in the room she had designated as his new hiding spot. Sansa wouldn't be able to visit him until the matter was resolved without risking a follower trailing her there, and she couldn't hole herself away as well.

Ramsay found this disappointing, and when the predictable question to himself of 'why?' cropped up, he told himself that it was most likely because the boredom would be far more complete with only stoic Eroc to talk to and generally keep him company. The giant was a man of few words, and those words to Ramsay were typically 'Fuck off'.

As expected, the coming days passed exceedingly slowly, and Ramsay soon began to resent the isolation which he discovered to be even more pressing than his previous imprisonments. Sansa had arranged for several weeks of food stuffs and barrels of water to be in the room before Ramsay had even been moved there.

In addition to this, the door had to remain shut at all times and no light source greater than a candle was lit to break the pall of darkness that fell over such a windowless room. On that note, a windowless room such as the one he now dwelled in permeated the atmosphere with a sense of claustrophobic, cramped closeness.

There was nothing to do to break the stillness of the place and time stretched and became increasingly intangible within the four walls of the new cell he found himself in. To make it all worse, Eroc showed none of the signs of distress that weighed so heavily on Ramsay, merely watching the other man as he paced and complained.

It would help if the big man felt at least a little uncomfortable given his own stress over the circumstances, reasoned Ramsay, but the fact that he only remained standing in a state of relaxed readiness as he always did strained Ramsay even further. He felt like perhaps the reason was that Eroc was amused enough by Ramsay's obvious distress.

In any case, Eroc always responded to Ramsay's incessant string of complaints concerning the nature of their isolation by telling Ramsay to 'Shut up' or informing him that 'I don't care'. He always made these simple statements in a tone of voice that suggested he couldn't care less that they spent days in a dark room with no sunlight.

The man was a monster, Ramsay was convinced. And that was only the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Dealing with such a monstrous roommate would be bad enough, but the boredom alone felt like it would crush him beneath its weight. Ramsay had never realized how important it was that he be doing… something.

"I can't just stay down here indefinitely... this plan isn't flawless; someone could have seen Sansa escort us down here…"

Eroc nodded, seeming rather unconcerned about the mortal threat to their lives, "It is a possibility. Anyone she had sent in her stead could have been seen just as well, though."

Ramsay nodded soberly, "Yes… and entrusting the matter to another would have only increased the risk of leaking the details of her trap if it turned out they were untrustworthy. Obviously, we had to be shown the way somehow…" he sighed, "Then there is the risk that our hidden nemesis might be smart enough to tear the keep apart looking for us."

His brooding companion shook his bearded head in the negative, "Even a quiet search of that scale would be noticeable. No reason for servants or anyone for that matter scouring every old storage room. Your mistress has this thought out well enough."

The smaller man blanched at the title; Ramsay still did not think of Sansa as his 'Mistress', though he supposed the way she commanded him it wasn't a stretch to say so. Suddenly annoyed by the prospect in addition to the long boring interment in what he could almost label as solitary confinement due to Eroc's general level of unhelpfulness, he snapped, "Well I still have reservations about this idea; I think far more guards would be a better solution."

The big warrior glared at Ramsay, "Yes, it makes sense that you would think that more men would be sufficient to solve your problems. You had more men than Jon Snow, and thought yourself unbeatable to such a degree that you slaughtered many of your own men just to make a point and win your war with style."

Ramsay shifted uncomfortably at the mention of his failed military tactics, and Eroc went on despite the look of aggravation that covered the other man's face as he pointedly turned away from the bigger man, showing him his back, "You above all should know that numbers aren't everything. We Free People have outnumbered your kin for generations…"

Eroc seemed especially sore at the mention of this, and a foul mood fell over his face, "…but we were held back from leaving the frozen reaches with death on our heels by one wall and a mere handful of unseasoned warriors. I'd rather fight our foe in the open, likely far more than your cowardly hide does, but sometimes it isn't the smartest move."

The red-bearded wildling picked at his teeth absently now, all of the malice having faded from his face as if it had never been there. Ramsay let out a breath slowly, not wanting to advertise that Eroc had been making him very nervous. Eroc continued, "Doubt the head of this snake is going to show itself at all, less so against any kind of force."

Ramsay frowned, his tone bordering on patronizing, "Yes well if this foe is as funded as I believe and as clever as you believe, simply capturing an agent of theirs will likely yield nothing."

He paused when he noticed that Eroc was staring at him intently. The warrior gestured at him, "Explain."

Running a hand through his dark, wavy hair Ramsay complied, "They will likely be outfitted with the means to avoid torture."

Eroc raised a brow, "What… like poison?"

Ramsay nodded, "Perhaps… or they could have been a fanatic or soft-headed individual. Perhaps an agent who was fed only lies to ensure that nothing but misinformation came from their capture."

The big man frowned, "You know, the more I learn of your people's ways, the less I like you southerners."

Eroc scratched at his bushy beard, "What exactly would cause a man to take the cowardly way out when it would cost him his own life?"

Ramsay shrugged, "Could be some foolish sense of honor or duty, or perhaps even more likely they would need to avoid the cost of living with failure."

The big man shook his head, "Living with failure is how we learn… you don't learn anything from poisoning yourself…"

The smaller man nodded, "True, but I'm talking less about direct consequences of failure; the people who hired them might target their families should they fail, that sort of thing. Why I've always said families are a weak link."

The warrior only grimaced in response to this, "Cowardly in the extreme; and yet your people call us 'barbarians'."

Ramsay scoffed, "Well, your people have a long history of attacking fringe settlements and murdering anyone the south has sent to study your culture."

Eroc nodded, shrugging, "Alright, so a lot of that has happened. There are tribes from the north that eat people too, but you must understand that we grew this way because the rest of the world shunned us."

Ramsay didn't care one whit for the plight of the wildlings, but he was happy that he had finally drawn Eroc into something resembling a decent conversation, so he continued the dull discourse of his savage people, "You lot can't really expect everyone south of you to take the blame for your barbarism, can you?"

The other man responded by giving Ramsay a flat stare, "You people built a giant fucking wall and viciously guarded any attempt on our part to farm the lands south of it, essentially meaning that all we owned was ice and frozen fucking tundra."

The former Lord Bolton glanced away at that, his tone less aggressive, "Well… it sounds bad when you say it like that…"

He continued, "…but the only reason we ended up putting that wall up in the first place was likely to stave off endless attacks by your people, who notoriously raid settlements for food because you don't want to work the land yourselves."

The giant warrior was gazing at Ramsay with an incredulous look now, "Where the fuck are you getting this? Are all of you southerners taught that garbage as babes? I suppose it would be easier for you all to continue seeing us as savages if that was the truth of it, but the reality is that though our tribes were isolated from the south, we were never at war."

He elaborated, "Sure, some raiding was done, but you can hardly judge everyone north of an imaginary line in the dirt as responsible for it. We weren't a threat to the rich lords who raised that wall; we were just on the wrong side of it."

Ramsay leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest, "Well then why do you think the wall was raised?"

Eroc chuckled at that; a humorless gesture, "We of the north remember what haunts that place, what it is that your ancestors would build a mighty wall to protect themselves from, why you have for generations manned that wall with your Crows. We lived there, and we faced the horror that beats on the gates as we speak."

Confusion crossed Ramsay's face and he leaned forward, "What in the world are you talking about?"

Just then the door to the room opened, causing Ramsay to fall sideways out of his chair in surprise and Eroc to rise suddenly, hand on the hilt of his sword. Ramsay quickly righted himself to see that it was Sansa that had come to visit them.

She glanced at the two and spoke, "The trap was sprung and we have taken an assassin alive. I require Ramsay to come with me to where we are holding him."

Eroc asked no questions, simply taking Ramsay by the arm and leading him along to follow Sansa. Ramsay struggled with the sheet that was still wrapped around his waist as a covering, as his fall from the chair had loosened it somewhat. He felt ridiculous for having to deal with it at all, and wished that Sansa would simply allow him to wear pants.

But that would ruin the point of the shame game she played with him, he supposed; he should probably just be glad that she wasn't objecting to his use of the bedding as improvised garment, he thought. They walked for some time in relative silence until at last Sansa stopped before a door that appeared to be one of the servant quarters rooms.

She turned to the other two for a moment, "As I mentioned before, Ramsay was supposedly being hidden in this room, so that his would-be killers would make a move on him here. A squad of soldiers lay in wait for a good while and the gambit paid off. The capture went smoothly but he is extremely resistant to our efforts to get him to talk."

Sansa opened the door and let the others in, revealing a simple servant's room in which all of the furniture had been removed except a few chairs and a table, upon which lay spread a variety of bloodied implements. In the center of the room sat a haggard-looking man tied to a wooden chair whose face was covered in bruises and cuts.

A bearded man stood up as they entered, his salt and pepper hair and slightly balding pate placing his age somewhere in the late forties or early fifties. His eyes narrowed at the sight of Ramsay as they entered, "Forgive me for questioning your judgement Lady Sansa, but why in all the realms would you bring him here?"

He was greeted with a non-committal nod from Sansa as she side-stepped the issue for the moment, "Have you learned anything new since the last time we spoke, Sir Davos?"

Davos shook his head, sighing wearily as he gave Ramsay one last wary glance before turning his full attention back to Sansa, "No, milady. I must admit; I have no real talent for this sort of thing."

Sansa nodded to this, but it was clear from her manner that she had expected this response, "And I would be glad to relieve you of the burden. I have sought out the talents of a skilled torturer to extract the name of this agent's employer."

The knighted smuggler could only stare at Sansa in shock for a moment, his gaze skipping over to Ramsay, "You want to give sharp instruments to your prisoner?"

"He will be watched carefully by the large man standing behind me, whom has already become quite proficient in his dealings with my prisoner. If you wish, you may feel free to remain and help insure that nothing goes awry in the process."

Davos shook his grey head, "No; I respectfully decline. I've had enough of this business I think."

Sansa placed a hand on his shoulder in consolation for the heavy expression on his face, "I thank you for helping in this, and though we weren't able to get this fanatic to talk I trust it is because he knows in his heart that you never enjoyed causing him pain."

Davos glanced over at Ramsay again, "Is that why you're going to have him go at it, then? I've heard stories, back before we even came here…"

She only responded with the barest of nods, and Davos let the matter go with another heavy sigh, "Fine. I'll be seeing you later I suppose."

He left the room quickly then, apparently glad to be removed from the scenario behind him. Once Davos had exited Sansa turned to Ramsay, "So yes, you heard correctly; you are being enlisted as a torturer in order to discover who it is that is trying to kill you. I suppose the fact that your own life is on the line should be sufficient motivation to see it done?"

Ramsay had been mute this entire time, stricken by the notion that Sansa would ever ask him to do such a thing. The idea that he would be able to pursue his most beloved trade again despite being a prisoner had never crossed him as a possibility in his wildest dreams. He spread a wide grin at Sansa, "Oh, I would have done it without all of that."