"Tch."
With a noise of contempt, the Wolf stepped forward.
"All right, you lot. This way."
Ramsay's face contorted.
"You!"
"Well done, Snolton, I see your eyes still work."
The Wolf continued as though there had been no interruption.
"Now, for reasons I do not and will not try to understand, the masters have deemed fit to return you to life, to serve me in bringing this world into their grasp. You will obey my every command, or I will empty your guts for the vultures to feed on. Is that understood?"
With a primal roar, the red thing that had been Gregor Clegane threw itself at the Wolf, bowling over the other resurrected champions.
"BLLLOOOOOOOOOODDDDDD!"
The Wolf reacted instantly, throwing himself to the green one said nothing, its head dangling listlessly, its legs thumping dully as its red half pulled it along. Had it been able to walk like a man, it would have been taller even than the giant, but its legs, bent like those of a spider, kept the two at the same height.
The pale Gregor suddenly animated itself as it passed the Wolf, emitting a bubbling sound and swinging clumsily at him with its scythe. Then its remaining eye widened, it coughed a stream of maggots and tried to stump back the way it had come. Akkarulf turned his head to see Qyburn staring in utter horror at his creation.
The pale Gregor tried to lunge towards the maester, but the red Gregor was still trying to get at the Wolf. Neither made any progress. The Wolf crossed his arms.
"Well that's just sad, that is."
The red Gregor opened its mouth and bellowed, its every word seeming to come from within a furnace.
"SEND! ME! BAAAAACK!"
Many flinched at the sound, but the Wolf spoke quite calmly.
"Send you back, Molehill? To make war within the walls of Kharnath's fortress is an honor that must be earned. You are here to gather skulls in his name, do so and you will earn your place."
"NNNNNOOOOOOOWWWWWW!"
The Wolf stepped up to the Gregors and grabbed the monster's sword and axe in his hands.
"You serve the masters as I do, Molehill, and that means you stay here until your purpose is done, got that?"
The Mountain continued struggling. The Wolf pulled his head back and headbutted the monster.
"GRAUGH!"
As the red Gregor reeled back, the Wolf applied both gauntleted thumbs over its burning eyes.
"Do we need to go through this again, Molehill? A blind man can still swing an axe, you'll just have to depend on your good friend to guide you there."
Akkarulf looked at the pale Clegane. It was drooling and staring emptily, still straining to reach Qyburn. The red Clegane let out a roar, but the Wolf spoke in an unknown tongue until both Cleganes stopped moving. Though Akkarulf did not understand the words, the Wolf's tone was surprisingly neither commanding nor insulting. At least he released his grip.
"Xerhexes!"
The dawi zarr stepped forward. The Wolf spoke with him for some time, during which time the dwarf looked the Cleganes up and down. Then he nodded.
At the Wolf's command, a dozen marauders cast ropes and chains around the limbs of the monstrous Cleganes, hammering them into the ground. The Wolf turned to the other three.
"So. Are there to be any further challenges tonight after that magnificent performance? One at a time or all together, as your mothers used to ask their admirers."
Akkarulf saw apprehension flit over the faces of Euron and Ramsay. Littlefinger's remained studiously neutral. The Wolf turned towards Euron without waiting for an answer.
"I sent you on your way with a message, rust-born. Did you deliver it, or was even that too daunting a task for your limited talents?"
Euron glared daggers at the Wolf, but his voice was measured when he spoke, now with a gurgling, sloshing voice.
"The Drowned God will neither help nor hinder us, if the dead of the sea are left to him."
The giant nodded curtly.
"Good! Now there was something else... Oh yes."
The Wolf glanced at Jaime and Cersei.
"Fair of hair, rust-born. Another failure to add to your ever-mounting tally."
What little of Euron still resembled a face looked blank, then twisted into hatred. He surged forward, but the Wolf's fist smashed into the Ironborn's face, one hand reaching into his maw and closing a fist around his tongue, the other blocking his axe hand at the wrist.
"Remember your place, rust-born. I believe this was how you achieved discipline among your crew?"
Euron gagged and retched, trying to swing his ungainly crab claw at him. The Wolf swung with it and pulled harder, until at last Euron stopped.
The Wolf sniffed.
"You still smell of cowardice, Urine Greyjoy. Ironborn! True warriors of the seas, victors over the vicious knife-ears and the dry dead, come cast nets over what even the deeps refuse!"
The crew of the Silence willingly leaped forward with more chains. One or two had been granted tongues again by the favor of the Dark Gods, jeering and mocking their former captain who struggled uselessly to escape from the giant's grip.
Once Euron was immobilized, the Wolf turned to look at Ramsay, who held his gaze.
"Hm? Am I to be tied and chained as well?"
"You'd enjoy that, wouldn't you."
Then he called out without turning his head.
"Best time to stab a man is in the back when he's not looking, Fingers! Or Feathers, rather! Get on with it or stand down!"
Akkarulf turned. The creature who had once been Petyr Baelish stood with both hands raised to the sky, engulfing in flickering flames. There was an instant of silence during which the Wolf did not turn around or even move, then Baelish lowered his hands, the flames disappearing with a whoosh of wind.
The Wolf turned around and stood before Baelish.
"All done?"
"… Yes, lord Wolf. You are the master here."
"I'm glad you think so."
The Wolf paused.
"Still..."
The Wolf's fist lashed out, catching Baelish in the gut. As he collapsed, wheezing, the Wolf turned away again.
"Wouldn't want you to feel left out."
Akkarulf had rarely seen such hatred as flashed across Baelish's face. But he stood and made no further move to attack. The Wolf took a few steps away and turned to face the four monsters.
"Right."
"Now that we've cleared that up: you do as I tell you, and there'll be plenty of skulls and souls to harvest. You don't, and it won't be the first time I've had to kill the same man twice. And I don't mean Molehill there, I mean real warriors. Any of you conceited enough to think yourselves better than Mordrek the Damned?"
There was a ringing silence. The thing that had been Euron rasped out a question.
"Who was-"
"Mordek was and is a most ungrateful man, blessed with immortality by the masters."
Akkarulf started. The Wolf turned to Ramsay, who grinned smugly.
"Oh yes, I know many things, Wulfrik!"
"Your name, your story, your secrets... what was the name of the slut whose name you sometimes whisper in your sleep? Hjordis, was it?"
The Wolf took two steps forward, his eyes not leaving Ramsay's. Ramsay laughed, his voice shrill. Akkarulf was uncannily reminded of the Druchii slavers.
"And what are you going to do to me, hmmmm? What can you do that I have not experienced in Slaanesh's domain, Wulfrik? There is nothing you can do to me that has not yet done by hir."
The Wolf stopped.
"You are quite right. I can do nothing..."
The Wolf's tone was not that of a defeated man, but simply stating a fact.
"And nothing is what I will do."
There was silence as the Wolf went on in a voice devoid of his usual cockiness.
"I shall dig a hole in a frozen lake and drop you in it, leaving only your head above the water. It would kill a man, but, as you said, you are now far beyond what mortals could endure."
"The cold will not kill you, but it will rob your body of any feeling. Then, I shall feed you nothing but thin gruel, boiled in melted ice for so long and diluted so many times over that even taste will have left it, meal and drink all in one."
"I will stopper your nose, veil your eyes, and plug your ears. Your only distraction from the silence and the darkness will be when I feel like informing you how well the conquest is doing without you to drag it down."
"And once this world is firmly in the grip of the masters, I will pull you from your snug little hole, allow you to gaze upon my works, and then I will kill you. Silently. Instantly. Painlessly."
"What will the Serpent think, Snotling, when you appear before hir, to report that you have squandered hir gifts, brought no tribute of souls or torment save your own at my hands, done nothing to glorify hir name, hmm? Will insolence and bluster save you then, Snotling? Will you tell hir as you tell me that you fear nothing s/he can do to you?"
Akkarulf sneaked a glance at Ramsay. His eyes were dull as a dead animal's.
"I thought not. You raised hounds, did you not, Snotling?"
Ramsay looked up, looking utterly bewildered.
"... Yes?"
"Then you know how an obedient little bitch should behave, don't you?"
Ramsay said nothing, his head bowed. The Wolf patted his cheek and stood tall.
"Now, warriors, to work! Sharpen your axes and grind your shields! Tomorrow we show the gods our gratitude with a grand slaughter!"
The assembled warriors began to disperse, leaving Euron and the Cleganes chained down. Kruissla Iron-Skin approached Ramsay at the Wolf's command and placed a collar around his neck, dragging Ramsay's knife hand across his chest. Sven spoke to Littlefinger, who followed the seer into the tower. Akkarulf looked up and started.
"Um. Yarrl?"
Akkarulf pointed at the Iron Throne and the figure waiting there, looking down on them. For the first time Akkarulf could remember, the Wolf's eyes grew wide in panic.
"Oh fuck. Not him!?"