To CharliCharles, Aleesha513, Mad Dog Rasay and Germany11 (mah fave)
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Screams could be heard in the entire corridor, they pierced the air like a knife, they made her skin crawl, leaving a dirty sensation all over her body.
The only thought she had while nearing the source was that a gut wrenching howl like that couldn't be human, never in her life had she heard something like that.
She carefully walked to the cell, her steps getting shakier by the second.
Once she got closer her ears caught on the fact that the person inside the cell wasn't just screaming, they were repeating a word, over and over again.
Stop.
Her hands flew to her ears, not being able to keep listening to, she hummed a tune so that the muffled screams could be covered totally.
The door was opened and she braced herself, ready to see the crude image of Theon on the cross, a picture that she had been forced to see too many times and was now pressed into her memory.
This time she couldn't bring herself to raise her gaze, keeping it on the bloodied stone floor instead, her hands still shielding her ears from the noises. She looked like a mess, ready to fall apart.
A solitary tear slid on her cheek, too many emotions prevailing; bitterly she detached her right hand from her ear to wipe it away.
Whimpers and sobs hit her eardrum, no shouts.
She curiously raised her head slightly to see that Ramsay's back was obstructing the view.
His entire body turned to her, a sick smile spreading on his blood-splattered face, he raised his hands (which both held bloody flaying knifes) in happiness, his arms were bare, his usual leather sleeves gone. The muscles in his arms flexed slightly, showing the blood that covered his skin even more.
"Come here, my gorgeous betrothed" he had never forced with strength, his words were his best weapons with her, she obliged, starting to get used to the routine and everything that came with it; from the dim lights of the dungeons, to the sight of blood and cut, mangled, skin, from the smell of blood to the feeling of holding a flaying knife in her own hands and…
She approached Ramsay's side, not daring to look at Theon, in fact, she never looked at his face directly. Not even when he begged her to stop or pleaded mercy in remembrance of their old, destroyed, friendship.
"Look, my dear" said the bastard's voice, a hand gracing the small of her back, staining the clean grey fabric with a splash of red "Look at my new creation".
The thing in front of her cried in pain as the lady slowly and painfully raised her head.
The entire torso was scarred, parts of skin were cut off, its hips, more defined than usual, showed signs of multiple stabbings; confusion started gnawing at her when she noticed the bloodied breasts on the victim's body, the chest quickly rising up and down in a panicked way.
Her eyes rose quickly to the victim's face and a bloodcurdling scream escaped her own lips as she locked eyes with her owns.
Annalys' doe like eyes were staring back at her, her face was mangled, but not entirely so that she could still recognize her own features. Her silky brown hair that had once been her pride had been cut and the few locks left were frizzy and glued together with what she guessed was blood.
She took several steps back, Ramsay's laughter echoing in the room.
The lady took a full peak at the body on the cross and…
It had to be her.
Annalys rose from the bed, grabbing the furs in a futile attempt to calm herself. Cold sweat ran down her back as she dashed out of the bed, feeling like she could vomit.
The room spun all around her, her vision going blurry with every step she took.
The world could come crushing down at any minute and it would have been more pleasant than what she was feeling.
With the little stability she could find the brunette somehow waddled to the window, grabbing the windowsill with her entire strength she stuck her head out as much as she could, taking deep breaths of fresh air.
The moon was still high in the sky, shining in the starry sky and the castle was quiet, the only noise coming from one of the other rooms where someone was lightly snoring.
Everyone was asleep, but she knew that, for her, it wouldn't be an option anymore.
From the day that Ramsay had forced her to torture Theon (and the first times she had done it willingly, her hate blinding her and Ramsay's words fueling it like a match) she had had the same, exact, nightmare.
Her walking to the dungeon's cell, hearing him scream on the cross and then Ramsay handing her the tools and her persecuting him almost to death.
Never, in the three weeks of the events, she had dreamed of being the victim.
The scariest part was that, having known Ramsay for more than a month now, Annalys knew fully well that nothing was shielding her from his unpredictability, the only reason she was still safe was a thin line called Robb Stark.
She breathed in and out, telling herself that the dreams would one day leave her, filling her head with fantasies of her marriage with Robb. It had become her only handhold to sanity. Her own little mantra that she would think over and over. Robb had become her only hope, the only way out.
She would spend her nights, after a nightmare, thinking about the most frivolous things, some that she had despised until then. She would lay under the window, a blanket wrapped around her body and she would rock herself back and forth, picturing the wedding dress of her dreams.
The caw of a raven woke her from her own thoughts, looking around the still lightless room she jumped on her feet and stuck her head even more out of the window, squinting her eyes in the darkness of the night.
The raven was nowhere to be seen, but she was pretty sure that it was an incoming one, since it was too late for anyone at the castle to be sending any.
She stuck her head back inside, turning her back to the window she slid bacl down the stone wall.
The raven reminded her of how Robb still hadn't sent her a letter, she had worried deeply the first weeks of her stay at the Dreadfort, everyday hoping to find one with a direwolf sigil on her desk.
With a gasp she noticed that the moon was in the exact same place it was on her first night at the castle. It had been exactly two moons.
In the end she had resigned herself to believing that he was waiting just to keep her safe.
With nothing to do and nowhere to go, she raised her legs to her chest and started humming the lullaby her mom would always sing to her. It had been so long that she had forgotten the words, but the melody lingered in her mind.
The lady of Woodsteep sang until the sun rose, the tune was simple and consisted of only a couple of notes repeated over and over, but she went on.
Her humming eventually put the moon asleep and accompanied the sun in its wake, from her place under the windowsill she watched the light enter the room, shadows forming.
That's where her handmaiden Cerlina, found her, nestled under the windowsill, staring at the wall in front of her, mumbling a song.
"I am alright, Cerlina" she stared into her handmaidens' eyes as the girl adjusted her corset "truly, do not worry about me".
Cerlina nodded warily, lacing up her dark blue bodice, the lady looked around the room, her eyes darting to the table where she would eat every day.
"Why isn't my breakfast here?" she complained, turning into the lady everyone expected her to be, and not the broken mess she withered into, at night.
"Oh" exclaimed the girl, her usually expressionless face turning into a hinting smirk "some lord requested to break the fast with you, this morning".
Annalys' nose scrunched up in confusion, her eyebrows knitting together, she headed for the door straight away, not wanting to anger Ramsay.
Analyzing the different reasons of this change of heart she walked through the castle with Cerlina skipping right behind her; although having thought a dozen possibilities through she didn't expect to see Theon opening the doors of the great hall for her.
In fact, she had to give him a double take, not recognizing him straight away.
The two stood there for a few seconds, staring each other down, well, Annalys was inspecting him, Theon, instead, had his gaze glued to the floor.
His hair had been fixed slightly, not damp from the sweat anymore they had turned into their usual curly form, his face wasn't covered in blood anymore, just scars.
He looked like a bad imitation of Theon, his beard was long and unkempt, his body hunched down forming a shape that she had never seen and his clothes were dirty, old and damaged, but, by far, the most unsettling thing were his eyes; Theon's eyes were fixated on the stone floor and were open wide, terror filled them, they were red and puffy and the light, cold, blue irises stood out more than anything, making him resemble a monster.
Annalys detached her stare from him and raised her head searching for answers in the bastard, she found him sitting in his chair at the table, food had already been served and he was waiting for her with a welcoming smile.
"This way, my lady" Theon stuttered pointing to the table, his voice startling her.
She reluctantly followed him, her handmaiden hot on her heels, the brunette heard Cerlina's squeal at the sight of Theon. She knew that her own handmaidens had started suspecting something from all the times she had gotten back to her room, blood splattered all over her gowns; they had never questioned her, it wasn't their place to.
Theon clumsily pulled out a chair for her, right next to Ramsay who was seated at the head of the table.
"You can go, girl" Ramsay ordered to Cerlina who nodded, not daring to confront him, she rushed out of the room, Annalys envied her.
"Good Morning my lady" exclaimed the bastard, in a cheerful mood, he grabbed her hand, the brunette tried to hide her annoyance, she greeted him in the same bright mood.
"Have you seen my new pet?" he pointed at Theon "oh no wait, honey, he's our pet".
Annalys glanced at Theon who hung his head low a few feet away from them, guilt overcame her.
It's him or you, she realized.
"Have you given him a name, yet?" she played along, her body leaning towards his, hands grabbing his own.
Ramsay's smirk grew wider, excitement seeping through him, he unexpectedly rose to his feet, jogging to Theon who kept his gaze to the floor.
"Look at this" he exclaimed, delighted "What's your name?".
Silence, Annalys gulped, afraid of Theon's response, Ramsay poked him.
"Reek, my lord" Annalys' mouth flew open in dismay, the bastard pointed at her happily.
"I know right?" he hurried back at the table, clapping his hands loudly, Theon limped towards them "I will have the eggs and the sausage, Reek".
The man grabbed a plate, that was immediately flung out of his grasp by the Snow who then scolded him with a: "Silly, dumb, Reek, you need to serve the lady first".
Annalys sat uncomfortably as the limping figure of what was once her friend hurried around the great hall serving her breakfast.
They ate in silence, Ramsay picking occasionally on Theon. The lady regretted the meals she ate alone in her chambers.
They had just completed breakfast when Annalys, grasping her half full cup of mint tea, turned to Ramsay.
"I was thinking" she begun, his head glancing up in a bored manner "we could finally go to Woodsteep, like we planned before-".
"Before?" he asked, playfully, glancing at Theon who was still in the room, Annalys rolled her eyes in annoyance.
"Before Theon took Winterfell" she said, bothered.
"Ah yes" pointed at Theon "he's always causing problems".
"That's not the point" insisted the lady, voice coming out stronger, adverting the conversation from Theon.
"We're not going to leave the Dreadfort" he replied, adamant, hands grabbing the edge of the table.
"Yes we are" she rose from her seat, a burst of courage coming from within her, she wanted, needed, to go back home, to hug her sisters and confide with her maester. She wanted to walk in the woods and not fear Ramsay's hounds, or men "We are going to Woodsteep because that's an order from your father and from me".
Ramsay jumped at her, in a matter of seconds he had flung her to the stone wall, her wrist locked in his hands.
"We will stay here" he growled, Annalys caught a glimpse of Theon, he had cowered into a corner and was now rocking himself back and forth, her heart tightened.
"You will not go anywhere" he added catching her attention once more.
Annalys chuckled bitterly.
"You'd rather stay here and rule over something that will never be yours than actually follow me and lead a better life" she felt her wrist start to go numb, but she ignored the pain, she was truly baffled at his stubbornness "you could actually have something to rule over, you would be the lord of the castle and not a bastard that one day is in charge and the other is nothing".
His other hand flew to her neck, his nostrils flaring, visibly angered. She had finally gotten a real, human response from him and not a calculated, well thought action.
"Do not call me bastard" he spat, articulating every single word.
"But you are" she shot back, gingerly.
For some reason fear had long escaped her body, it had been replaced with bitterness, resentment and numbness.
"And no matter what you tell yourself, you will always be in the eyes of your father".
Silence.
His grips were still strong against her, but she could see from his expression that he was taken aback.
"You would never be a bastard again" she insisted, lowering her voice, a small devious smile gracing her lips "you would be the lord of the Woodsteep and when your father will die, then we'll overthrow his legacy and merge the two houses together".
His grip on her loosened.
"We'll start with the Woodsteep, but I promise" she bluffed, her head thumping, body extremely tense "that one day it will become more".
Hearing Ramsay's silence she figured he was sifting through her offer, she knew that if he would ever accept after she gifted him a heir he would end up killing her, but she was willing to face that scenario since, in her mind, she wouldn't have gotten to marriage. Robb was her real betrothed.
She tentatively pulled her right wrist out of his grasp, then raised her hand to his cheek in a calming manner.
"What do you say, my lord?".
"Why should I trust you?" he spat at her, she shrugged, her hand still on his cheek.
"Why should I lie?" she pulled her left hand free, Ramsay was too busy studying her, with both her hands free she cupped his cheeks, cold sweat running down her back "I have a lot to gain".
Tension filled the room, the only noise coming from Theon's rocking back and forth.
"I do not have any claim on the Dreadfort, once your father comes back from the war you and I will be useless here. If he forces me to marry you here, I will lose my title as lady of the Woodsteep. I cannot let this happen." Annalys stared at him, becoming more and more apprehensive the second he stayed silent.
She suddenly became aware of the flaying knifes that he always wore on his belt and she regretted her little speech with a burning passion.
Suddenly he grabbed her by the waist, he had already grabbed her a few times since she had arrived to the Dreadfort, but this time he had been even more rough.
Annalys closed her eyes, ready to feel more pain, and gasped when she felt his lips on her.
Her eyes fluttered open as she pulled away in shock, she stared at him for a few seconds searching his own eyes for some sign of a trick, she sighed, her hands still on his cheeks, his stubble leaving them irritated, Annalys smugly lowered them to his neck finally interlocking them behind it.
She pulled him towards her, clashing their lips once again.
Ramsay's hands fell to her hips squeezing them, Annalys smiled in the kiss moving her lips on his.
Being the lady-to-be of a major house she had never been allowed to talk to many boys in her life, so her only kissing experiences had been at Winterfell.
Ramsay spun her from the wall to the wooden table, forcing her to sit on it, whilst never detaching from the kiss, she lowered her hands to his chest.
Annalys had just turned fifteen and she and her dad had rode to Winterfell for their annual visit, there, old enough to drink only alcohol, she had gotten fairly drunk and, by the end of the night she had ended up with her friends in the stables.
A slight moan escaped her lips as he grabbed her bum.
Jon Snow had been her first kiss, the Stark's bastard was only a few years older than her, but, as it turned out, that had also been his first kiss.
Robb had been her second, like with Jon, they only exchanged a quick, chaste, peck.
Her true, real, kiss had been only hours later, right before bedtime, when she and Theon kissed.
Annalys winced, separating from Ramsay and ending the kiss altogether, thousands of emotions were whirling in her mind at once.
The bastard smiled wickedly, pleased with himself, he took a step away from the table, letting the lady jump down on her own.
"We'll leave in a few days' time" he announced, heading straight for the door.
Theon was still in the corner, his rocking had stopped and, for the first time, he raised his eyes to meet Annalys'.
They shared a knowing look and if stares could speak, theirs would have meant: I'm doing this just to survive.*
*May I remind you that, although this story is written from an omniscient point of view, the thoughts are always only Annalys', unless stated otherwise. So this last sentence is only Annalys' though, not Theon's.
Anyways, Hello!
I'm back, a day early because I'm in my house in the countryside and I'm extremely bored.
Hope you liked this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Yesterday I banged my head on a door and I'm still kinda dizzy so forgive the mistakes in this chapter ahahah.
Love you,
Nicole.