They had hardly made it back through Harrenhal's gates when Sigvald stood before them, still floating an inch or two above the muddy ground. Cersei was still catatonic on the cart, and all around them marauders, Dothraki and Thenn carried out their duties or lounged about drinking and gambling. Several were putting up further scaffolding around the Seafang's cradle and mammoth pen, hanging down nets to protect them from the siege engines outside.

"I have sent for him, Wulfy. Now I need entertainment. That one will do."

Akkarulf started as Sigvald pointed straight at him. He could easily imagine what he meant by entertainment. A shiver ran down his spine.

"As you wish, geld-prince."

Akkarulf stared in silent shock, both at the betrayal and the Wolf's indifferent tone. Sigvald advanced, an expression of smug arousal marring his otherwise flawless face. But the Wolf went on.

"Your magnanimity and forgiveness are too well-known for me to seek to oppose you. But I am surprised."

Sigvald turned, his delicate features turning into a haughty frown.

"What?"

"Yes, surprised by your willingness to feast on leftovers when fresher meat is available."

The Wolf jerked a thumb in Akkarulf's direction.

"He has already been one man's plaything. But then, I suppose being second-best is a new experience for you, and isn't that what counts?"

Akkarulf looked at the Wolf in horror. He had never imagined that what he had told the giant in confidence would be used against him so casually.

"Eugh!"

The geld-prince emitted an ejaculation of disgust and slapped Akkarulf so hard he collapsed, a stinging pain near his eyeball. He raised a hand to his helm, feeling four distinct tears. Sigvald's fingernails had shorn through the metal and into skin.

"Get this filth out of my sight! Who dares steal my prize!?"

"Who? Why, here he comes now."

The Wolf pointed at the far side of the court, where a six-armed figure was fast approaching.

Ramsay strode through the courtyard of Harrenhal, flushed with pride and anticipation. His third and fifth arms dug into the flesh of the others, and he thrilled at the pain.

The androgyne had stated that Sigvald himself had requested his presence, and that could only mean one thing; elevation to a higher rank befitting a servant of the greatest of the gods, free of Wulfrik's petty jealousy, the barbarian forced to eat his words.

He stopped just short of Sigvald and Wulfrik.

"You summoned me, great one."

Wulfrik's fist thrust out, catching Ramsay's midriff so hard he bent nearly double. The other fell heavily on his neck, dropping him to the ground.

"You will speak when spoken to, ill-bred clod! The geld-prince favors you with his attention, and here you come barging in like a backwater peasant calling for donkey's-piss ale in a disreputable tavern! Do you even know why he called upon you?"

Still gasping for breath, Ramsay tried to push himself up, only for the barbarian's armored boot to descend upon his neck and press down. His voice dripped with contempt.

"I gave you but one task, Snotling. One task, and you couldn't even be trusted with that. And to think you believed I should entrust you with command in battle."

Ramsay pushed down with all six arms, but still the Wolf's weight was too much. He managed to gurgle out an answer.

"Wh-what?"

"The geld-prince lacks for entertainment, Snotling. You, who should have deemed it the greatest honor of your existence to provide his every need, have made no provision for fresh virgins to sate his whims! Have you learned nothing during your stay in the Crystal Palace?"

The pressure on Ramsay's windpipe lessened, and he was able to speak, though in a higher, shriller voice than usual.

"You didn't say anything about that!"

The barbarian's voice grew harder.

"And now, confronted with your undeniable ineptitude, you accuse others of not paying attention. The fault is yours and yours alone, Snotling! If I bear any responsibility in this it was thinking that you were remotely competent enough to handle it. But now I learn that you not only fail to attend your duties towards the emissary of the masters, but even worse, sample his private stock, who now reeks of your scent, soiling him and rendering him unfit for the geld-prince's caresses!"

Ramsay twisted his head until he saw Akkarulf cringing against the wall. Understanding dawned on him.

"Wh- It was years ago! I didn't even know of the existence of the masters then!"

The barbarian stepped back and looked at Sigvald.

"The cur pleads youthful ignorance, geld-prince. Do you deem it a sufficient excuse?"

The geld-prince turned his cruel face upon Ramsay.

"To disserve me is betrayal enough! He will pay for his crime."

The barbarian nodded.

"Your youth hides immense wisdom as always, geld-prince. I can only hope that his example will motivate the other-"

"Stop talking, Wulfy. You're boring me again."

The barbarian fell silent, only dragging Ramsay up by two of his arms. At a signal from Sigvald, two marauders with deliberately scarred faces grabbed Ramsay from behind and tied chains around his arms. They dragged him into the fortress, followed by the geld-prince.

Akkarulf thought it wise not to say anything. The Wolf's expression was murderous, and even the nearby marauders seemed to be staring diligently at the ground or the sky. At last the giant heaved a profound sigh.

"Akkarulf!"

"Yes yarrl."

"You need a bodyguard."

Akkarulf blinked.

"I do?"

The Wolf nodded curtly.

"With the geld-bitch around, I need you safe from his attentions, and if the Snotling thinks he can curry favor by dragging you to the Serpent he will. Any of your men particularly trustworthy?"

Akkarulf recovered from his surprise with commendable speed. He looked around and pointed.

"A few... Aron there is one of th-"

"Hoi! You!"

The target of the Wolf's shout, an Ironborn leaning against a wall and finishing a chicken leg, blinked rapidly and looked at the giant, then pointing to himself.

"Yes, you, you damned halfwit, get over here!"

The Ironborn walked over to the Wolf and Akkarulf, clearly uneasy.

"See Akkarulf here?"

The mute nodded, though he looked confused.

"From now until you die or I tell you otherwise, you eat what he eats, you go where he goes, and sleep where he sleeps. If he dies... rest assured, you will not share his fate; yours will be far worse."

The mute nodded, frantically this time.

The Wolf sniffed and frowned. Grabbing Aron, the Wolf lifted him bodily, bringing the man to his nose and sniffed deeper.

"Er, yarrl..."

"Shut it. He smells like... like someone I've smelled before..."

Aron struggled fruitlessly until the Wolf put him down.

"A woman, of that I'm sure. You bedded a girl recently?"

Aron tried and failed to look modest, as all men did when downplaying their conquests.

"Likely as not one of the castle wenches, yarrl."

The Wolf nodded.

"Hmph. Still, a mute's not the worst man to have alongside you at all hours, at least he won't talk back or repeat whatever it is you get up to in your bedchambers."

Akkarulf was about to protest that he didn't get up to anything like the orgies organized by Sigvald when the Wolf went on.

"Right, get any others of your crew who you think capable of defending you. Especially if they seek Kharnath's favor. Sleep in shifts, one man tastes food before the others. I wouldn't put it past the little shit to have his own supply of Estalian Fly."

The Wolf tromped off to the cart, lifted up the prostrate Cersei in one hand and hauled her up, marching off into the castle. Thankfully her room was nowhere near the chambers Sigvald had claimed for himself upon his arrival.

Aron gave Akkarulf a questioning look. Akkarulf sighed.

"He meant every word of that, Aron. I'm your best hope of staying alive now."

The mute nodded, then stood behind him, a hand on the hilt of his sword.