Waiting

By the Old Gods and the new, he absolutely hated the waiting. It was easily the worst part of any military or covert operation- having to restrain yourself until the right moment, lest you blew your cover and got yourself killed for no good reason.

Granted, he was better at waiting than most. After all, he had waited until Jaime Lannister had walked right into his ambush at the Whispering Wood. He had waited until the cover of night to catch the unsuspecting Stafford Lannister unawares at Oxcross, and he had been patient as all that information about the Death Star had trickled in. But he was also the blood of the wolf...and he had to fight against every instinct of his to just rush in there and cut off the bastard's head.

As the sun began to set, he suddenly felt a tap on his right shoulder. He turned his head to see one of Lund's black-armored agents looking at him, his expression unreadable as it was covered by a faceless helmet.

"Sir, all our men are in position," the agent reported, his voice garbled through his speaker. "The Duke will join you in the apprehension of the suspect. We await your word."

Robb nodded. "Copy that, agent. Wait here until we give the signal. Things will most likely get hairy in there, and we'll need the extra firepower."

The agent nodded. "Roger, sir."

With that, Robb turned over and tapped Theon on the shoulder, indicating to him that it was time to move out. Together, they got up out of the prone position, and made their way out of the wood line towards the distant Arkani Arms Factory, with a mile of empty plains between here and there.

As they walked towards the ever-looming and dilapidated building, Robb could not help but notice that Theon kept clenching and unclenching his hands, the servos straining under the pressure.

He didn't have to ask Theon to know that he was afraid. Why wouldn't he be? He was meeting the man who had tortured him, broke him, and made a slave out of him. An encounter like this would worry any sane man.

Now, Robb had never met the Bastard of Bolton, but if Roose was anything to go by, along with what Theon had told him and what he had seen on those holotapes, then he couldn't afford to underestimate him. Almost on reflex, he switched the safety on his blaster pistol to the 'off' position, and he eyed Theon doing the same, all the while making sure to enforce comms silence between them and Lund's agents.

Soon enough, they were at the factory. It must have been abandoned for some time, Robb realized, as a fair amount of rust had gathered on the support beams and the walls. Outside the large, rusty factory doors, a guard with a flayed man tattoo on his cheek stood on watch, an old EE-5 resting in his hands at the low ready position. The Weequay regarded them with suspicion, his eyes betraying his mistrust of these two who had come to see his master.

"Oi. Stop right there, you twos. What's your business?"

"Here to see your boss," Theon deadpanned. "Tell him his Reek his here."

He still side-eyed them but sighed and keyed in his compad. "Eh. Boss. Your guests 'ave arrived. I'll send 'em in."

As if on cue, the door was pulled open by two burly thugs, and standing in the middle of the factory was something that looked human, talked like a human, and walked like a human, but in truth was more of a monster than even the most fearsome rancor.

Robb grimaced at the sight of him. The monster was dressed in black, from his shoulders to his feet. As he got closer, he noticed the dirty mop of coal hair, the unusual paleness of his face, contrasted starkly by the gunmetal grey of his mechanical lower jaw, and, perhaps most disturbingly, the pair of ice-colored eyes that regarded Theon and himself with maniac glee and rageful contempt in equal measure.

Finally, the three were within talking distance of one another, close enough to hold a conversation, and yet far enough away for any of them to draw their weapon before getting killed.

None of them deigned to speak for a while, instead choosing to regard each other, letting the air become pregnant with anticipation…or dread, to the more grim-minded among them.

Finally, it was Ramsay who decided to begin speaking, spreading his arms wide as he gave the two a toothy grin, much like a shark regarding his prey.

"Reek," he began, addressing Theon first. "My oh my, it's been ages since we've last seen each other. Last time I remember, you were in…Winterfell, if I recall correctly. You were supposed to keep watch over my lady wife, were you not?"

Theon said nothing, instead electing to cross his arms and regarding his former tormenter coldly. Robb at that moment could detect little fear in his eyes- only a cold, burning hatred that he had scarcely seen in him.

"Oh, come now, Reek," Ramsey chided. "Is the silent treatment anyway to greet an old friend? We've been through so much together, after all! What, with the emasculation, and the mind-breaking, and the torture, and me forcing you to watch as I had my way with Lady Sansa…" he turned to grin at Robb. "Oops. You weren't supposed to hear that last part…"

Robb felt the fury build up inside of him, and it took every ounce of his will to restrain himself from beating the bastard before him into a bloody pulp, as he clenched his teeth and growled, wordlessly. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned his head to see Theon wordlessly shaking his head at him.

Of course, he realized. That wasn't what they were here for. He loosened his shoulders a bit, but not before looking Ramsay dead in the eye.

"Fortunate, then, that my sister got justice for your crimes. I wonder how it felt being ripped apart by your own 'loyal' beasts? Certainly had to have been worse than being stabbed, I imagine, bastard," he instead chose to say.

Ramsay's smile dropped off his face, his eyes blazed with cold fury.

"Reek…" he drew out, slowly and dangerously, "why haven't you informed your friend about those fools who dared call me bastard?"

Theon shrugged. "Slipped my mind, my Lord," he replied, sarcasm and a hint of fear mixed with resentment laced into his words. "Regardless, Ramsay, what he says is correct. You were the product of an unwed union, the son of a Northern lord and the woman he raped. You might have been legitimized by King Tommen, but even with that fancy piece of paper, you will always be a 'Snow', not a Bolton."

Robb was…surprised, for the lack of a better word. Theon was holding his own against the man who had haunted his sleep for years on end, and showing little signs of fear, to boot.

Then again, he supposed, he did face down far worse after he had escaped Ramsay.

All pretense of happiness at seeing his 'pet' was now gone, as Robb saw Ramsay's face twist into perhaps the ugliest sneer he had yet seen on a human face. At last the monster had broken through the façade of the man.

"I see," he began, snarling, "that my wife's influence turned you against me, Theon. Clearly I need to break you more."

"Wouldn't count on that happening," Robb answered before Theon, his hand straying towards his blaster. "We're here to arrest you, Bolton. Surrender and face Arcadian justice. Refuse, and die where you stand."

Ramsay laughed. "And how do you propose to do that, Stark?" he questioned. "Take a good look around you. You're surrounded by my boys! You make one false move, they'll gun you down before you complete your first step."

Robb looked around them. Sure enough, there were guards everywhere, on the floor, on the railings, and on the balconies, training whatever blaster they had at the two of them.

Suddenly, Theon began to chuckle. "You're cunning, my lord," he said, a knowing smile appearing on his face. "No one here can deny that. You've forgotten one crucial detail, though- I know you. I know how you love to lay traps and play with people's minds. That's why we brought a little extra…insurance… with us." As he was speaking, he turned his head towards Robb and nodded at his friend.

Robb immediately understood the signal and quickly pressed a button on his compad. As Ramsay looked at them in apparent confusion, a low, grumbling drone could be heard, steadily getting louder and louder.

All a sudden, a loud, thunderous explosion breached the doors behind Robb and Theon, followed by another explosion behind Ramsay that breeched the other large set of factory doors. Into both breeches poured the security agents of the Ministry of Intelligence, gunning down the thugs nearest the entrance.

As the thugs on the railings looked around in perplexed confusion, a steady stream of green laser fire cut them all down from outside the windows, where Robb saw the LAAT/I-2 gunship floating, making its strafing runs.

Amid all the smoke and chaos, Robb spotted Ramsay, looking around in perplexed confusion. He decided to take the opportunity while it still presented itself and ran at full speed towards the Bastard of Bolton, lowering his shoulder and tackling the evil son of a bitch to the ground while Ramsay had his back turned. Scrambling on top of him, he immediately put Ramsay in a chokehold, forcing the both of them back up to their feet.

How the situations turn, Robb thought, and here he thought he was the one leading us into a trap.

As the weapons of the agents were leveled at Ramsay, there was little he could do to anyone save struggle helplessly, to which Robb responded by increasing the pressure on the hold.

Out of one of the blasted entrances stepped Duke Lund, his gait confident, yet measured, walking towards them even as he smoked his cigar. When he was about spitting distance from the trio, he stopped, studying Ramsay's face for a good, long moment before deigning to speak.

"Well, well, well," he began, his voice taunting. "if it isn't the bastard who's been terrorizing our kingdom for the past month or so. Gotta admit you're a slippery little bugger, ain't ya? You've been giving the Ministry of Intelligence and the Armed Forces quite the wild bantha chase. Sorry to have spoiled your fun and killed your boys, but you see, you made a big mistake," he mocked. "When you decided to make an attempt on the Crown Prince's life, that was something we just could not ignore. Couple that with your other myriad of crimes just this past month, well…let's just say you'll soon be praying for the king's justice. From what Theon tells me, it's the least of what you deserve."

Ramsay just rolled his eyes. Obviously, to Robb and everyone else present, the former Lord of the Dreadfort was taking this far less seriously than what would be expected of this situation.

And for some reason, that unnerved Robb.

"Now, before we toss you in the cell, I want you to tell me one, small little thing," Lund asked, now leaning in close, "Who is your informant among our ranks?"

Ramsay snickered. "Who do you think it is, my fine porcine friend?"

Lund glared. "Well, if I had to take a guess, my most likely suspect would be Ignatius. He has the means and the motive, so why should it not be him?"

Ramsay laughed. "Hahaha! For all your supposed smarts, Lund, you're too stupid to see what's right in front of you. Ignatius? Why would I trust that fool? All that hedonistic moron cares about is wine, women, and status. True, he had his uses, as my agent wonderfully demonstrated. They convinced him to indirectly carry out my bidding. No, what I needed my backers already provided for me. The perfect candidate to infiltrate the royal court and gain your trust."

At this, Lund spat out his cigar. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Ramsay grinned again, his predatory nature returning. "Oh, come now, Lund. You must have suspected something about this person. Sad, sob story, hyper-competent in nearly every area, charismatic. Why, it perfectly screams secret agent! Guess she's excellent at her job if she managed to fool even you."

She?

Lund's mouth dropped open. "No…it can't be…Lysandus took her in…treated her like family…"

At this, Robb spun Ramsay around, grabbed him by his collar, and lifted him up into the air.

"Enough of this, Bolton!" he yelled. "What are you planning? Why so many weapons and men if you were just trying to assassinate a man?"

"Assassinate?" Ramsay tsked. "Ah, Starks. Always the same- quick tempers, yet slow minds. Did it ever occur to you that we're planning something a bit more than a simple assassination? Or did you rush in without considering everything, again… just like you did in marrying that foreign cunny."

Robb's eyes went wide "You're…"

Ramsay's grin widened even more. "Call it a bit of inspiration from dear old dad. Gather everyone in one place, then have my boys, disguised as private security, slaughter everyone in that reception hall. No reinforcements, neither. Constables and military are going to have their hands full trying to contain my boys once they're unleashed to wreak some wonderful havoc on the streets. This…this will be my best work yet, and the thousand dead alongside the slain royal family and council won't even be the half of it…"

He never got to finish. With a wordless cry, Robb threw him into the wall, his rage now finally boiling over. He will not let this damnable cur repeat the event that slew him and his family. By all the gods, he would not.

He would not let Ezra, Sabine, or Irene die for his mistakes.

He approached Ramsay, the wolf in him now fully awake, ready to kill this damned vile monster once and for all. He would rip him apart with his bare hands; he did not deserve the mercy of Longclaw.

So focused on Ramsay was he that he didn't notice the trigger in his hand, and as he got closer, the bastard pressed the trigger.

Almost immediately, the support structures started to implode, snapping Robb out of his rage, as from the very end of the building, the factory started to cave in on itself.

"Robb, we need to get out of here!" Theon called out. "Factory's going to collapse any second now!"

Robb wasted no time and brokered no argument. Likely, Ramsay would be killed by the falling debris, anyway. He turned and booked it out of there with Theon, Lund, and the rest of the agents. As soon as he passed the threshold and took ten good steps outside, the factory completely collapsed, turning into a twisted heap of metal, wood, and dust.

"Well…" Lund spat, "at least the bastard's dead. There's no way anyone could survive thousands of metric tons of steel collapsing in on them."

Theon shook his head. "I wouldn't bet on it. He's survived worse," he pointed out. As if to prove his point, a single speeder could be seen taking off from around the back of the factory, carrying an all too familiar figure, his distant laughter echoing through the setting night.

Lund took the blaster he had in his holster and threw it on the ground in rage, "Gods damn it!" he cursed. "We were that fucking close!"

"We may not have caught Ramsay," Robb replied, "but we still may have time to save the king and everyone else at the wedding. How fast can that Larty go?" he asked.

"About five hundred kilometers per hour, seven if we gun it. No matter how you cut it, though, it will take us at least half an hour before we even reach the city limits," was Theon's reply.

"Then we can't waste any time," Robb responded. "Let's move!"

As everyone piled into the gunship, Robb's mind began racing, trying not to relive those events that killed him all those years ago.

Whatever happened to him, though, he would make damned sure that his friends would not have to die at another Red Wedding.

Short little chapter, but one that's absolutely important.

Now, some of you might be wondering "Grey, that's fucking bullshit! How did Ramsay survive that?" And to that, I say…it's for me to know and you to find out. The story of Theon and Ramsay's relationship has not come to a head, yet.

Many of you probably already figured out who the traitor is. Question is, do you know who is backing Ramsay, and just what their plan is for Arcadia?

Find out next time!