Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2590106.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      Multi
  Fandom:
      Game_of_Thrones_(TV), A_Song_of_Ice_and_Fire_-_George_R._R._Martin
  Relationship:
      Ramsay_Bolton/Reek, Ramsay_Bolton/Jeyne_Poole, Harrold_Hardyng/Sansa
      Stark
  Character:
      Jeyne_Poole, Roose_Bolton, Reek_(ASoIaF), Ramsay_Bolton, Original
      Characters, Myranda_(Game_of_Thrones), Steelshanks_Walton, Fat_Walda
      Frey, Barbrey_Dustin, Theon_Greyjoy, Margaery_Tyrell, Tommen_Baratheon,
      The_Bastard's_Boys, Garlan_Tyrell, Sansa_Stark, Harrold_Hardyng, Loras
      Tyrell
  Additional Tags:
      Ramsay_and_Jeyne_have_children, Rape/Non-con_Elements, Torture,
      Punishment, Ramsay_is_his_own_warning, Master/Pet, Child_Neglect, Child
      Abuse, Parent/Child_Incest
  Series:
      Part 4 of The_Thirteen_Tales
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-11-09 Completed: 2015-02-24 Chapters: 40/40 Words: 46541
****** Tainted Blood ******
by DuschaPendragon
Summary
     After the Bolton's defeated Stannis, Ramsay's Reek was returned to
     him and Ramsay made sure that Reek would never betray him again. But
     it's not just his Reek he needs. His wife is also returned to him and
     with her are two babes. Two identical girls with sets of ghost grey
     eyes.
Notes
     This piece is inspired by 'The Thirteenth Tale'.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Her arrival was unexpected. With the snow being as bad as it was, it had been
considered near impossible for her to return so quickly. Yet return she did. No
doubt it had not been of her own volition. In fact, Jeyne was led over the
drawbridge and into Winterfell’s walls. Not that she had any intention of
escaping. She couldn’t do it alone.
Servants hurried about the courtyard, trying to shovel some of the snow away to
make paths. She clutched the bundles tightly to her chest in fear of them being
taken away. She glanced about the courtyard, seeking the faces she knew, yet
did not wish to see. At first it was a relief to see only Roose Bolton’s face
amongst the bustling crowds of servants and workers. Then that relief turned to
dread. He had not come to see her return. Where was he? Why wasn’t he here? Was
he so enraged by what she’d done that he was waiting to decide what punishment
would suit her best? Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. As she was led
forward, she overheard two serving girls whispering to one another. “What
happened to her nose?” One of them giggled.
A tear spilled down her cheek.
The horse was halted and Roose Bolton strode down the steps towards her; his
cold eyes fixated on the bundles clutched to her chest. “Take them away. We’ll
deal with them later.” He ordered. Two men rushed forward towards Jeyne, arms
outstretched ready to snatch them from her. “NO! Please Lord Bolton!” She
wailed as the men tried to prise open her iron grip. “Please, I beg of you!
Don’t take them from me!” She shrieked as her grasp was finally loosened enough
for the men to steal the bundles from her. As they began to walk away, she
leapt down from her horse and staggered after them, only for more men to bar
her path. She could hear people muttering, but they were unimportant to her
now. “Calm yourself Lady Arya.” Roose Bolton said softly. Jeyne ignored him,
trying desperately to push through the two burly guards. “Bring Lady Arya to me
Walton.” Roose ordered. It was clear that Jeyne would not come easily, so
Walton wrapped his arms about her waist and lifted her, ignoring her ungraceful
kicks and pummelling fists. She was plonked down in front of Lord Bolton, but
refused to look up at him; choosing instead to stare at the doorway through
which the two men had disappeared. “I assure you Lady Arya, I mean them no
harm.” She looked up at Roose then, frowning. “They will be cared for as befits
their rank. But for now it is best if they were to remain out of sight. I’m
sure you, of all people, can understand that.” Roose regarded her with an
exceedingly cold gaze. Jeyne looked at his polished boots and began to sob.
“Now, shall we go in?” Roose asked. Jeyne began to sob louder.
Reek froze in his spot beneath the table as he heard heavy boots approaching.
Every muscle was tensed, ready to leap out if needs be. But the men did not
call his name, instead, they hollered for another. “Myranda!” One of them
yelled. Reek heard softer footsteps this time, but that made them no less
terrifying. Reek remembered. He had been in darkness when he’d first heard
those soft footsteps, then she had torn the sack from his head. Myranda and the
other one, who was now long dead, had untied him and helped him onto the bed.
Then they’d teased him before they…before he…
“What the fuck is that?” Her cold voice rang out, sharp as a knife.
“Take care of ‘em would you?” The men began to leave the room.
“Wait!” Myranda barked. They stopped. “What am I supposed to do with…these?”
She asked incredulously.
“You’re the woman, you figure something out.” One of the men snapped back. They
left the room without another word. Myranda’s soft footsteps sounded once more
and stopped just beside Reek’s head. Reek heard the rustle of cloth. Then
silence fell once again. Myranda sighed. “They can die for all I care.” He
heard her growl. She left the room and Reek’s fear left with her and was
instead replaced by an unusual curiosity that rarely occurred. Reek was too
stupid for that. What was it that Myranda hated so much?
He paused, listening out for anyone who might enter the room, before creeping
out from his hiding place. Then he did something almost unforgiveable. Reek
stood up; it was the only way he could see over the table. When he saw what
Myranda had been irritated by, he froze in confusion. Two identicalbabies. They
were clones of one another. They even seemed to move at the same time in their
dreaming state; as though they dreamt of the same things. Are they happy
dreams, little ones? Reek thought. He envied them; lying there in their clean
white swaddling blankets. In each corner of the blankets, a name had been
embroidered in simple black letters. Leona and Laina. With a twitch of the
blankets it was plain to see that both the children were girls.
Elsewhere in the castle, a bloodcurdling scream rang out.
Reek flinched as one of the babes opened their eyes. He found himself being
studied by two chips of dirty ice.
Jeyne’s screams grew louder.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Summary
     Ramsay meets his daughters. Roose attempts to explain their value.
     Reek does his best to help.
After four days of screaming, sobbing and his son’s threats that shook the
entire castle, Roose decided that enough was enough. He waited until there was
a break, a brief pause from the beatings and whatever it was Ramsay was doing
to his wife, then he brought in the babes. Walda had begged him not to. She had
been taking care of them. But two was too many and she was still mourning the
death of their own son. Besides, Roose had an idea. As well as the twins, Roose
sent in Reek too. As soon as the two serving girls had settled the babes in
front of Ramsay on his desk, Roose ordered them to leave. Ramsay wrinkled his
nose in disgust when he glimpsed the chubby little clones. “What is this?” He
growled.
“These are you daughters.” Roose informed. There was a groan from the bed and
Jeyne stirred amongst the sheets. At that moment, the babe in the Laina blanket
released a gurgling sound. Ramsay twitched. Jeyne lifted her head slightly.
“Laina?” She gasped. Of course, the men couldn’t understand how the mother knew
which child it had been. “Did I give you permission to speak, wife?” Ramsay
roared, slamming his hand down onto the desk. The babe in the Leona blanket
began to scream. It was a scream so piercing that it even stunned Ramsay into
silence for a moment. Jeyne curled into a ball on the bed and clamped her hands
down over her ears. Roose could just about hear her repeating the word no.
Ramsay looked down at the squalling, red faced monster. “Be quiet you little
brat!” He shouted back. The babe opened her eyes. Ramsay saw the same set of
eyes he had. They seemed to hold him with a mixture of hatred and anger. Then
the child continued on squalling. “I swear to all the Gods that if this child
doesn’t stop screaming, I will tear out its tongue!” He roared. The babe
screamed louder. Then Laina began to whimper too; screwing up the pudgy little
face, readying itself to begin wailing. “No, no, NO!” Jeyne screamed, rocking
back and forth on the bed. Fortunately for her, Ramsay was focused on the two
brats in front of him. He raised his large hands and held them over their
faces, the palm brushing their noses. Anger and resentment as well as blind
rage filled him. He pushed his hands onto their tiny, squalling faces.
Reek spotted his queue. Roose had told him to look out for it; any sign of
Ramsay attempting to harm the children. He quickly scurried forward on his
hands and knees and began to rub his face affectionately up and down Ramsay’s
leg. When Ramsay seemed not to notice, he pressed harder into his leg and began
to rub faster, burning the side of his face on the fabric of Ramsay’s breeches
in his desperation to get his masters attention. But this also failed and the
babes’ cries grew fainter, and Jeyne’s louder. In a final attempt to get his
master’s attention, Reek let out a pitiful whine.
When Ramsay’s hands returned to his sides, the room fell silent. Ramsay looked
down at his pet, frowning. Reek looked up with pleading eyes. Then Ramsay
looked back down at the two babes on his desk. They were silent. Reek spotted
Jeyne peering over the sheets. He could see the longing in her eyes to hear the
babes make a noise. Any noise. Longing for a sign that they still lived. Laina
gurgled again. Leona stared at Ramsay, as though mesmerized by his monstrous
face. Ramsay slumped down into his chair and began to stroke and pull at Reek’s
curls absentmindedly.
Roose watched his son, relieved to see the angry flame receding from his eyes.
“Done?” He asked. The eyes narrowed. Ramsay looked down at his daughters. He
lifted the blankets and peered beneath them, as though in need of proof that
they were in fact daughters. “It is not daughters I need. It is sons.” Ramsay
stated coldly.
“A daughter can be just as useful. They can be used to make political
alliances. Besides, these two girls are in fine health. There is no reason why
the Lady Arya cannot bear you a son. Perhaps she has one in her already.” Roose
suggested. Ramsay looked away. Obviously these past four days had included
nothing that resembled trying to make another child. Roose glanced over his
shoulder at the girl who watched them, hiding behind the bed sheets. “I must
return to the Dreadfort soon. You are Lord of Winterfell. She needs to be kept
alive as do your daughters. It is your duty to make sure they receive the
proper care and education as befits their rank.” The look in Ramsay’s ghost
grey eyes told him he would make no promises. Roose sighed. He had hoped to
break the pattern of bad upbringing. He did not want another Ramsay, be it male
or female. But it seemed it was going to be harder than he’d anticipated. “And
you must put a son in her.” He knew now that Ramsay would forget his other
duties. He had his pets back. That was all the boy cared about. And he couldn’t
wait to begin playing with them again.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Summary
     Jeyne is proving useless, much to Ramsay's frustration. The twins are
     growing up wild and unruly, led only by their instincts.
Chapter Notes
     We are a few years into the future now. I mean come on, Bolton babies
     can't cause as many strange and terrible acts as Bolton kids can. And
     this is only the beginning...
Inevitably, Roose’s worst fears came true. Perhaps if he had not had to return
to the Dreadfort so soon. Perhaps if Ramsay didn’t have his favourite pets.
Perhaps if the boy had had any sense of how actions had consequences…
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
The twins of course couldn’t be blamed for their own upbringing.
Gradually, as the years went by, the amount of workers in Winterfell
diminished. So much so that the great hall was never even half full at meal
times. Some had died from the bitter cold of winter. Others had most likely met
an unfortunate ending due to Ramsay’s boredom. But most had left because of the
screaming. Therefore there had never been anyone to educate the twins. But
also, no one had wanted to.
First of all, there was the fighting. Leona and Laina had grown up thinking
that never-ending screams were the norm. Leona would fly at Laina; beating,
scratching, kicking and biting. Sometimes she would chase her with hot coals or
pokers. Anything to make her screams join those of her mothers. What worried
the diminished staff of Winterfell more was that Laina never attempted to
defend herself from her sister. Leona’s anger was merciless and Laina would
simply bow her head and wait for the storm to rage over her. She had the
goodness of two children in her, whereas Leona had wickedness enough for them
both.
Some servants had tried to scold them, but they were never sure if the children
could understand. They wouldn’t say anything when asked questions. Some
servants even claimed to have heard the girls speaking in an alien tongue. It
seemed the twins had created their own language with which to communicate. It
was mainly made up of sounds rather than words. Once, one brave servant
(perhaps having drunk too much) informed one of Ramsay’s men. Ramsay had had
the servant’s tongue ripped out, not wanting word of it to spread to the
Dreadfort where his father would hear of it.
The Lord of Winterfell seemed to have forgotten he had two children. What time
he didn’t spend locked within his terrified wife’s chambers, he spent dealing
with matters occurring on his land. Even at meal times he didn’t see them. The
girls fed themselves; helping themselves to whatever they could find in the
kitchen whenever they felt like eating. Well, Laina did. She ate and ate and
ate, seemingly unaware that the food had to last throughout the whole winter.
Leona, on the other hand, was never seen eating at all. But the cook would
notice a loaf of bread or leg of chicken go missing if she left it out for too
long.
The girls seemed unaware of the cold too. They had been born in winter. The
cold was all they knew. They would wander through fields and woodland in
nothing but old dresses they had found, not caring who owned the land or not.
Neither walls nor gates kept them out. Sometimes the twins would end up
insomeone’s house; helping themselves to food or personal goods. No one dared
to tell their father though. The tale of the tongue incident had travelled far.
The mother was no good either. When the girls were two, it looked for a while
as though things would get better. Jeyne had fallen with child again. Ramsay
had even held a feast with Jeyne sitting, pale faced and trembling, to his
right. The twins had not been present. The almost-happy time had not lasted
long however. Six months into her pregnancy, Jeyne had miscarried. The reasons
weren’t known, but Ramsay had stayed in her room whilst she had been pregnant,
and his presence alone would have scared her enough.
The stillborn had been a boy. Ramsay had named it Domeric before throwing it on
the fire whilst his wife watched, still covered in her own blood.
The screaming continued for another year before she fell pregnant once more,
but the child had only lived nine days before a fever took her. Ramsay called
this girl Jeyne, then made sure the mother bled as much as the daughter had
done when he’d cut her up and fed the chunks of body to his dogs.
Each child she carried after that died in the womb. The people said they would
prefer to die in there than face their father. Ramsay made sure that his Lady
Arya stayed in her chambers, like the children that chose to stay in the womb.
There was one event, however, that even the Lady Arya would hear about.
Reek waddled down the stairs, clinging to the wall in search of support. Every
part of him ached and he longed for nothing more than to lay down and sleep.
But it was Master and Lady Arya’s dinner time, and Master wanted it served in
their room. He was busy and wished to eat whilst he worked. The thought of
being involved any further in Ramsay’s work was what spurred him on. Reek had
remained in Jeyne’s room for half the night and all day. Maybe if he was
good…maybe…just maybe…
Both the cook and her daughter were absent. There wasn’t even food ready for
Reek to collect on the table. He whimpered and began to wring his hands
together. He had to get the food…he had to…he just had to!
He was close to hyperventilating by the time the cook appeared, red faced and
anxious. Reek hopped from maimed foot to maimed foot. “Lord Ramsay and Lady
Arya want their supper now.” He muttered.
“Well Lord and Lady will have to wait!” She snapped, making Reek jump. Wait? He
can’t wait! “Please, Lord Ramsay will be angry! Please!” Reek begged. The cook
looked close to tears. Yes, he’ll punish you tooReek thought. She wiped her
brow nervously. “You haven’t seen the baby have you?” She asked nervously. Reek
shook his head and looked across at the hooks on the wall. The cook’s
daughter’s son was only a few months old and she’d hang him in his swaddling
clothes whilst she worked. She always sang to keep him quiet. Reek’s blood ran
cold when he noticed the empty hooks. He wrung his hands together. “Go and tell
Lord Ramsay his dinner will be with him…” The cook was cut off by a blood
curdling scream.
“Hush now Lady Arya, you know what we are doing now is all for the best.”
Ramsay cooed through gritted teeth. Why couldn’t the bitch get pregnant and
stay that way! He wasn’t asking for much, was he? She’d already given him two
fucking daughters. Two girls doesn’t even begin to match the value of a son.
His wife continued to sob into her sheets. Ramsay carved patterns on her skin
out of boredom. Her screams still rang in his ears. He pushed the knife in
deeper as he grew irritated by it. He pulled the knife out when he realised
he’d written ‘boy’ on her leg. Why was making life so much harder than causing
death? It had been six years since this bitch had returned. Six years and she
had given him no living children. It would only take a matter of seconds for
her to die once he slit that pale throat.
Reek burst in through the door, falling flat on his face.
“I am in no mood for being amused now Reek!” He spat, waving his knife around
as a warning. “And where is my food?” He growled, standing up.
“Master, please Master! Forgive Reek! Please…they…the twins…they’ve…” A scream
cut him off. Ramsay frowned. “Stay!” He barked at his wife. She whimpered in
reply. Quickly pulling on a shirt and breeches, Ramsay led the way out of the
door, followed by a staggering, whimpering Reek.
By the time he reached the courtyard, a small crowd had gathered. Was this
really all that remained of his staff? He couldn’t worry about that now. Once
they spotted him, they quickly moved out of the way and returned to whatever
their duties were. All except two women. Was that the cook? He had no clue who
the other one was. She was kneeling on the floor, screaming and sobbing
hysterically. “Move!” He barked. The insolent bitch didn’t seem to hear so he
gave her a hard kick. The cook dragged her away. Ramsay looked down at the mess
and frowned. It was clear the child’s head had smashed when it hit the ground.
It didn’t really have a head any more. It was simply fat stumpy arms and fat
stumpy legs with a mush of blood and brains on top. He heard Reek whimper
behind him. “What is it now Reek? You’ve seen worse, haven’t you?” He smirked.
But Reek wasn’t looking at him. Ramsay followed his gaze to the top of the
wall. Two sets of ghost grey eyes gazed back. The father and the daughters
stared at each other for a moment before the girls began to giggle and speak in
their alien tongue. They skipped away from their crime, hand in hand.    
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Summary
     Ramsay gives Reek a task. The twins get in the way. Reek has a
     revelation.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Reek stared down at the mush of blood and brains, feeling sick. The mother’s
cries rang in his ears. “Reek!” Came a distant voice. “REEK!” Ramsay grasped
him firmly by the shoulders and shook him violently. Reek gasped in shock. How
dare he! How dare he ignore Master! He immediately dropped onto his hands and
knees and began to rub his head up and down his Master’s leg, ignoring the
chunk of warm brain that was trapped beneath his hand. “Enough Reek!” Ramsay
snapped. “Stand up.” Reek did as he was bid. “Go and tell Lady Arya that I will
not be returning to her. Make sure my chambers are prepared. I need time to
think and her screaming won’t help. I want food already in there and ready for
me once I’ve seen to this mess. Understand me?” Ramsay’s eyes bored into
Reek’s. He nodded and began to wring his hands together anxiously. “Go!” Ramsay
barked, already looking around to find someone to clean the mess up.
“Should I take Lady Arya some food Master?” Reek dared to ask. The look from
Ramsay told him he would pay for that later. He scurried away. “You girl!” He
heard Lord Ramsay bark. The weeping mother stopped crying at once; her grief
replaced by fear. “Clean this mess up!” Ramsay ordered. The crying resumed.
Reek moved as fast as he could, eager to get away. At least Lady Arya would not
be screaming tonight. When he told her that her Lord would not be returning,
she slumped down onto the bed and quickly drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Reek allowed himself to wonder whether that was the most peaceful sleep she’d
had since she’d returned six years ago. Reek worried that once Ramsay grew
bored of thinking, he would return to her chambers, or worse, he would look to
his Reek for amusement.
His worrying soon turned to fear when he heard the sound of two little girls
laughing. He began to tremble when he reached Master Ramsay’s chambers and
realised that was where the laughter came from. Reek stopped and stared down at
his shaking hands, attempting to steady them before he went in. The attempt was
in vain and he could barely walk as he entered the room. He stopped and stared,
shocked. The skins that had been hung on the walls had been torn down and
ripped apart; shreds of them strewn across the floor. The skulls had also been
thrown on the floor and smashed, along with torn up books, broken weaponry and
torn up bed sheets. Bloody handprints now lined the walls. As the twins danced
and laughed about, chasing each other and giggling, Reek looked about
desperately for the source of the blood. On the floor, he spotted Myranda. She
was sprawled on the stones, motionless, a vase lay smashed beside her head and
her soft brown hair was matted with blood. Reek let out a loud wail and
crumpled to the floor, clutching his head in his hands, longing for children’s
laughter to leave his head. It did. The laughter and the sounds the twins made
to communicate was gone. Reek peered up at them through his fingers. They
stared back at him. The two girls cocked their heads to the right in unison. He
whimpered when he realised they were thinking; a thousand questions in their
eyes. How strange he was to them! Reek allowed himself to think for a moment.
Perhaps for the first time, he noticed how there was nothing cruel or inhuman
about their gaze. It was simply the way a child would look upon an object. A
thing. Reek was used to that. He wasn’t a human, just a Reek. But it wasn’t
just him they would look at like that. He realised now that that was how they
looked at everyone. They had even dared to look that way at master! They don’t
realise that I am alivehe thought. They don’t realise that anyone is alive but
themselves.Turning it over in his head, he began to understand it all. They
were twins. They were always together. There was always twoof them. If it was
normal in their world for people to come in twos, what would people who came in
ones look like to them? To the twins, it must seem as strange as a normal
person without a body part.
Reek whimpered. That made him strange to both them and normal people.
Staring at the two girls, he realised for the first time that to them, their
strangeness was only natural. After all, everyone longs for an other half. He
had one. He had Master.
He released another wail when he remembered the task master had set him. He
would be so angry! His chambers were supposed to be ready, and they weren’t
even clean! He began to weep. There was no way he would be able to clean all of
this up by the time Master returned.
Reek’s crying was so hysterical, he didn’t even hear the girl approach. It
wasn’t until she touched him that he realised she was there. She cupped his
cheek with her tiny hand. “Reek sad.” It was Laina. Reek was too startled to
pull away. He looked up at her, blinking away the fog of tears. “Reek sad?” The
child spoke again. Reek’s head twitched as he nodded. The girl smiled. It was a
smile completely without malice, or guilt. Laina was simply proud of the fact
that she had seen something and correctly identified it. She’d seen the tears.
She had been puzzled. But now she had found the answer to that puzzle. It was
sadness.
Laina continued to cup Reek’s cheek.
Neither of them noticed the other figure in the room, who began to tremble with
a rage that would soon be uncontrollable.
Chapter End Notes
     Just a short update but fear not, trouble is coming!
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Summary
     Leona releases her rage until she meets her match. Roose receives a
     letter.
By the time Ramsay reached the doorway, he was too late. The rage was released
and Leona threw herself towards Reek and Laina. She knocked Laina away and
began her savage attack. She bit and kicked, punched and pinched; landing blows
wherever she could. Ramsay stood in the doorway for a moment, frozen with the
shock of what he was witnessing. Reek shrieked and tried to roll up into a ball
on the floor to protect himself whilst the little girl screamed and continued
her attack. Laina inched forward, head bowed submissively, waiting for the
angry blows to turn on her. It seemed as though she would be waiting for a long
time. Ramsay wasn’t sure if Reek had even seen him, but Reek cried out for him
all the same. “Master!” He wailed. Poor little helpless Reek. Ramsay came to
his senses then when Reek called out for him again. He charged forward and
pushed the little monster away; his thrust sending her flying across the room,
before going to his Reek. Leona hit the wall and slumped onto the ground. She
lay there, motionless.
Ramsay’s rage was almost a match for his daughter’s. How dare they touch his
pet! Reek realised the attacking had stopped and threw himself into his
Master’s arms. But that was not enough to quench Ramsay’s anger. Unfortunately,
Laina was nearby. And she looked so much like Leona. His eyes latched onto her
and he released a feral snarl before swiping his leg around and knocking her
legs out from under her.
On hearing her sister cry out from both the pain in her legs and her head,
Leona was shaken out of her unconscious state. She cocked her head and listened
to Laina’s cries for a moment. Then she turned her head and looked over her
shoulder. Her sister lay, crying, on the floor, curled into a fetal position.
Leona watched her father give a final kick for good measure. She growled,
clambered onto her feet, and began to run. A few feet away, she leapt into the
air and cried out, some sort of instinctive battle-cry perhaps.
Ramsay, so concerned for his Reek, didn’t even see the little monster coming.
She landed on his back; digging her fingers and toes in so that he was unable
to shake her off. His angry roar turned into a scream when she brought her
mouth to his shoulder, and sunk her teeth in, tearing through his shirt and
flesh. “Get OFF!” Ramsay roared.
But Leona didn’t know those words.
Ramsay threw himself back and the child cried out in pain and anger as she was
crushed beneath his mighty weight. Once he felt her let go, he got off and
turned to face her. He was on top of her, pinning her down beneath him. Leona,
despite being held down, tried her best to fight him off. She squirmed;
desperately trying to free her arms and legs and attempting to reach his wrists
with her teeth in the hope of freeing herself. When she realised that his arms
were out of her reach, she seemed only to become angrier. In one final,
desperate attempt to get this thing off of her, she spat.
Ramsay stopped his growling when he felt the saliva hit his cheek. He stared
down at her. She glared back.
Reek held his breath.
Laina sensed the tension and ceased her whimpering.
Even Myranda released a groan.
He knocked a few of her teeth out first. Leona squealed like a dying pig. Then
he grabbed her left hand, holding it tightly and not letting go until he heard
the bones crunch.
Reek flinched when he heard the girl scream. “Protect the children.”He heard
Roose Bolton say. “You’re the only one who can.”
I can’t. I am Reek, it rhymes with weak. I can’t even help myselfhe thought. A
loud whine escaped his lips. By now, Ramsay’s fists were covered in blood.
Leona, for once, had run out of fight. Only small whimpers informed Reek that
she was still alive. Fortunately, Ramsay’s punches were slowing. Eventually
they ceased altogether. He stood up, saying nothing, and wiped the sweat from
his brow, smearing Leona’s blood across his forehead. He didn’t look at either
child as he moved across the room towards Reek. Reek trembled and began to
crawl towards his Master, ignoring the pain from where Leona had landed her
blows. His trembling stopped when he noticed the fire in Ramsay’s eyes had
died. He rubbed his head against his Master’s legs. Ramsay crouched down and
gently stroked his pets tangled curls. “Did those little monsters hurt you my
pet?” Lord Ramsay asked softly. Reek whimpered. “Protect the children.”Roose
Bolton commanded. He’ll know if I lie, I’ll lose another finger or worse. I
can’t even protect myself.
Reek nodded. Ramsay’s eyes flashed with anger, but Reek knew it was not himself
he was angry at. “Go to the maester and ask him to give you milk of the poppy
and to come and see to Myranda. Then tidy this room up. If it’s clean by
nightfall, I’ll let you eat an entire meal.” Ramsay promised. Reek swallowed,
fearing he may begin to drool. An entire meal! “Thank you Master! Master is so
kind, Reek is very grateful!” He gabbled. Ramsay smiled and stood up. Without
looking back, he left the room. Reek knew where he would be going.
It seemed Jeyne wouldn’t be getting a whole nights rest after all.
In a far corner of the castle, his son screamed. Perhaps it was bath time. The
child always began to squall at bath times. It had been a long time since the
sound of a child filled the cold halls of the Dreadfort. So many, in fact, that
Roose had forgotten how irritating it was. But his own child was not his main
concern right now.
He read through the letter again. Skinner’s scrawl was easier to read by the
fifth go.
The twins grow unruly and wild. It wasn’t until recently that their savagery
was brought to Lord Ramsay’s attention. They threw a baby from the battlements
into the main courtyard. There didn’t seem to be any reason for it except for
general amusement. Even your son seemed shocked by their actions.
It is unlikely that the Lady Arya will bear another child. I did not ask the
maester to confirm it in fear of him informing Lord Ramsay that I had been
asking questions. These two girls are all he has. Something must be done. If no
one puts their foot down, those two twins may turn out worse than their father.
Roose sighed and rubbed his eyes. He had hoped he would not have to return to
Winterfell. Not yet anyway. But he had to agree with his spy. Something must be
done.
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Summary
     Roose arrives makes a surprise visit and finds that things are worse
     than he'd feared. His wife meets her granddaughters.
Reek had not seen the castle so alive in years. Perhaps not even since Master
had married Lady Arya. The bustling servants caused him more panic than usual,
so he stuck beside Master, fearing he’d get in the way or make a mistake.
Ramsay barely paid him any attention. Reek crawled about after him, receiving
the occasional kick whenever Ramsay’s anger got the better of him. Master was
angry, Reek could see that. It had been getting worse and worse since the
letter from the Dreadfort had arrived. It seemed Roose Bolton would be making a
surprise visit. Since then, Master Ramsay had left his wife’s chamber and
attempted to ready the castle for his father’s arrival. The castle itself would
at least look a good deal better than when Roose Bolton had last ridden towards
it. Inside the castle was a different matter. The amount of workers was perhaps
suitable for a manor house, but not a castle. It meant that hardly any of the
rooms were used, apart from whenever the twins passed through them, but that
only served to put them into a worse state. At least half of the chambers had
fallen into a state of decay and devastation. The rushes on the floors had not
been replaced for a number of years, the woodwork had rotted away and the
tapestries were torn and mouldy. Most of the rooms still had not been cleaned,
but it was too late now. “Lord Ramsay!” Reek heard Damon call as they crossed
the courtyard. Turning, Reek saw Damon canter through the gates. He pulled his
destrier up just in front of them. Reek cowered away from the stamping hooves.
“What is it Damon?” Ramsay growled, eager to make one last check of what were
to be his father’s chambers.
“He’s entered winter town.” Damon said. Ramsay snarled and kicked Reek in the
ribs. “Go and make sure there is mulled wine and food for them when they get
here.” Ramsay ordered. Damon nodded and led his horse away. Reek shivered as
his Master turned and stared at the gate. Snow began to fall, as though the
weather knew of the cold man that was riding to meet them.
Walda huddled deeper into her furs, wishing she could take her hands off of the
reins just for one moment so she could pull her hood up. She couldn’t summon
the courage to do it though. The cold had seeped through her cloak and skirts
and her legs were so numb she feared she wouldn’t be able to stay in the
saddle. Walda was almost relieved when the walls of Winterfell loomed before
them. Almost. Then she remembered what waited for them inside. She didn’t
chance a look at her husband. She knew she’d get no comfort there. How she
longed to have remained at the Dreadfort, cuddling her son and watching him as
he slept; hearing his tiny breaths and watching his eyelids flutter as he
dreamt. But her husband wanted her with him, and her granddaughters needed her.
She swallowed her nerves at the thought of them and made her face a mask as
they passed beneath the gate house. Her step son was waiting for them in the
courtyard. Walda tried to ignore the creature by his side. Ramsay smiled his
charming smile but Walda wasn’t fooled. When she pulled her horse up and
dismounted, she clutched her large stomach, hiding her hand beneath her cloak.
She would never forget the boy she had once carried, and she would never
forgive who killed him. “Father, mother, welcome to Winterfell.” Ramsay called.
Walda moved in behind her husband and followed him towards the cruel boy that
had called her mother. She longed for her own child to call her that, before
the word was soured by Ramsay’s tongue. “I thought you may have brought my
brother. I would have so very much liked to meet him!” Walda looked at the
ground and gritted her teeth. She could feel his cold eyes on her, relishing
her reaction. Fortunately, her husband saved her before what remained of her
courage fled altogether. “My son remained at the Dreadfort. He is young.”
“He is four is he not? Such a tender age. It was probably for the best he
stayed at home. The snow could be the death of him.” She could hear the smirk
in Ramsay’s voice. Walda trembled with anger now and curled her hand into a
fist. “Your concern for your brother is touching. Shall we go in?” Roose
brushed passed his son, not waiting for the Lord of Winterfell’s permission.
Walda followed, relishing Ramsay’s irritated glare. “I have had wine warmed for
you and there should be some…”
“Not now. Where is your wife Ramsay?” Roose asked, rounding on him the moment
they were inside.
“Lady Arya isn’t well. She’s…”
“And how long has she been unwell? A week? A month?”
“Well she’s…”
“How about six years?” Her husband did not raise his voice. If anything, he
lowered it. That only made him more terrifying. “It hasn’t been that long.”
Ramsay growled.
“I suppose the people have not seen her since the last time she was pregnant.”
Roose raised an eyebrow.
“They know she’s alive.”
“I’m sure they do. Where are your daughters?” Walda looked up, curious to see
how her step son would react. Ramsay shifted from foot to foot. “See my wife to
her chambers.” Roose Bolton ordered. That’s when they realised that the only
other person, if he classed as a person, around was Reek. Walda looked down at
the creature who stared up at Ramsay, unsure. “Go on Reek.” Ramsay muttered.
Walda knew better than to question her husband. She followed Reek through a
doorway and deeper into the castle.
“Take me to your wife, Ramsay.” Roose ordered.
“I would be glad to bring her to you…”
“No. Take me to her.” Roose’s tone left no option for questions. When his son
turned and walked off, leading the way, Roose pursed his lips. It was silent as
they made their way through the castle. There footsteps echoed, following them
along the corridors. Roose couldn’t help but notice how empty the castle was.
He recalled visiting the place a long time ago, back when the Stark’s ruled the
North. Back then, the castle had been warm and filled with the laughter of
children. He’d hated it. But this wasn’t much better either. Roose could feel
the screams that had been etched into the stonework. He could also feel his
son’s fear. Roose’s lips stretched into what could’ve been a smile.
The castle only seemed to get colder as they got deeper into it. The air felt
damp as well and she could smell rotting rushes from the rooms they passed.
Reek moved painfully slowly, but Walda couldn’t bring herself to scold him. She
could hear him whimper in pain as he walked along. Suddenly, his whimpers were
joined by another sound. Reek stopped abruptly in front of her and seemed to be
listening to the sound. She waited behind him and could’ve sworn she could see
him tremble. “Is something wrong?” Walda asked gently. Reek’s head twitched
from side to side and he continued hobbling down the corridor. It wasn’t long
before they found the source of the sound. Reek continued to walk, as though he
hadn’t noticed them. “Wait!” She called. He stopped immediately. They were
almost in darkness, their faces barely lit. They were on a small set of stairs
that led up to a wooden door. One was lying down on one of the steps, the other
sat above her, wiping something on the others’ face. They didn’t notice her at
first and they continued talking. Except it wasn’t talking. To her horror, she
realised that the words they said weren’t words, but just a jumble of
incoherent sounds. Perhaps it was a mother’s instinct that provoked her to
approach them. “Hello.” She said gently, crouching down in front of them so she
was at their level. The noises stopped. The one lying down sat up. They fixed
her with a queer gaze. “I suppose you don’t remember me. You were only babies
the last time I saw you. Look how much you’ve grown!” She used the voice she’d
have used if she was speaking to her own child.
They answered with a stare. It was as if…it sounded mad…but it was as if she
wasn’t real to them. They stared at her as though she were a strange object
that fascinated them.
“M’lady, please, we should go. Please!” Reek was almost begging. He glanced
nervously at the twin’s then back at her. She could sense his distress and,
with one last glance at her granddaughters, continued to follow him down the
dingy corridor.
Roose frowned at his daughter in law. She stood before him, trembling, covered
only by a light linen shift and a wolf pelt. He had allowed Ramsay to go into
the room first, after he said he needed to make sure she was decent. It
irritated him how his son thought this was decent. “When was the last time she
went outside?” Roose asked. She looked so small amongst the pelt. From what he
could of her face, which had been hidden beneath her hair, she was bruised and
he could’ve sworn that lines were appearing. He looked to his son, who had
still not answered his question. “She has a window.” He shrugged. Roose moved
towards him, ignoring Arya who flinched at the sudden movement. “When I left
you here, I gave you three orders and the only one you managed to follow was
keeping your wife alive, and you’ve barely done that.” Roose kept his voice
low. His son didn’t meet his gaze. “It’s not my fault she can’t keep a baby in
her belly father. Believe me, I’ve tried.” Ramsay growled. Arya’s trembling
grew worse. “And what about your living children?” Roose raised an eyebrow.
Ramsay turned his face away, but Roose saw his expression darken. Then he
spotted the bite mark on his neck. Roose smirked. “Which one did that?” He
asked, guessing who was responsible.
“I don’t know.”
“You can’t tell them apart?”
“Well they areidentical.” Ramsay snapped.
“They are your daughter’s, whether you like it or not. Leona and Laina should
have started their education years ago.” Roose noticed Arya raise her head when
she heard her children’s names. “When was the last time you saw your children
my Lady?” He asked her. She looked at Ramsay with fear in her eyes, seemingly
unsure of what to do. “When was the last time you spoke to someone other than
your husband?”He wanted to ask. “Well?” He ignored the glares he received from
his son.
“I don’t know my Lord. I can’t remember!” She wailed, clutching her stomach and
struggling to breathe through the sobs.
“Do you want to see them?” Roose asked. The sobbing died down. Arya looked up
at him in astonishment. She nodded. “Then you shall.” He promised. Arya resumed
her weeping, this time though, it was caused by joy.
Reek left her almost the moment they reached what were to be her chambers, for
however long they were staying. After her encounter with the twin’s she
selfishly hoped that wouldn’t be long. Then Walda felt guilty. It wasn’t their
fault they were so strange. From what little her husband had told her, the
girls had had neither a mother nor a father. They’d had no one but each other.
Walda couldn’t imagine what it must be like. Being in such a large family,
there had always been someone around. But the twin’s had no one and to them,
that must seem normal.
Wanting to distract herself from her granddaughters, Walda set about exploring
her chambers. It was hard to tell whether or not they were the same chambers
she had had the last time she’d stayed at Winterfell, but the walls felt a lot
sturdier. The room, although cold, was still warmer than last time. But the
scent of mould and something fouler clung to the air. She sniffed again. It
smelled as though there was something rotting in the room.
Walda followed her nose into her bedchamber. She stopped in the doorway and
could hear a scratching sound. A moment later, she could’ve sworn she’d seen
the wardrobe shake. There it went again! Steeling her nerves, Walda went
towards it. The scratching continued. There was something inside.
She put her hand on the handle.
One…two…three…
She threw the door open and leapt back, screaming as something jumped out at
her. Then she felt a fool. The raven hopped about on the floor, dazed by the
sudden brightness of the room compared to the inside of the wardrobe. “Poor
birdie! How long have you been stuck in there?” She breathed. With shaking
hands, Walda picked up the bird, holding it out awkwardly in front of her. Once
she reached the window, she released it and watched as the raven flew down
towards the Godswood and perched on one of the nearest trees.
Poor Walda never heard the tiny footsteps behind her, nor did she see the
figure rise up and lift the lump of wood.
As she crashed to the ground, Walda heard a little girl laughing.
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter Summary
     Jeyne meets her children, but soon wishes she hadn't. Roose considers
     his granddaughters' options.
She wondered if it had been a trick all along. Something her husband had
planned as a new form of torture. She blinked back tears. Were they even alive?
Jeyne bit back a sob. They were. Lord Bolton had said so. And she had heard
them. It was a rare occurrence, but sometimes when Ramsay had ceased his
roaring and growling, and she had been unable to scream or cry, and the
children had been close by. Then she’d hear them laughing and playing. She only
carried on to hear their tiny voices. Occasionally she would hate them for it.
If they weren’t there, she could let go. Death would be such a blessing. But
then, when she’d come dangerously close to giving up, she’d hear them laugh and
her heart would beat just that bit faster.
Jeyne was well aware of her husband beside her. She was aware that he was
quickly losing patience. “Please,”She thought. “Please…just a bit longer…please
just let me see them…” She released a tiny whimper and began to tremble when
she realised Ramsay had heard it. He slid his hand up beneath her wolf pelt and
pinched her hard.
The sound of a door opening had never sounded so sweet.
Laina was carried in by Damon, lost in his large arms. Jeyne shivered at the
sight of those large arms around her child. All Damon would have to do was
squeeze and Laina’s thin bones would snap. She only knew it was Laina due to
the state of the other twin. She had seen the marks her daughter had made on
Ramsay and had heard tales of Leona’s wicked nature. She didn’t want to believe
them. But Leona entered the room slung over Skinner’s shoulder, pummelling
relentlessly at his back with her tiny fists, screaming at him. Jeyne winced.
“Stop that you little brat.” Skinner growled. Leona didn’t seem to hear. Jeyne
heard Skinner growl for a second time. “Please don’t hurt her!”Jeyne wanted to
yell. Ramsay’s pinch was enough of a warning to keep her silent. She trembled
as the two girls were plonked down in front of them. Laina stood, staring at
the strangers in the room. Jeyne’s heart sank as her queer gaze passed over her
as though she wasn’t even there. She doesn’t recognise me.Jeyne wanted to weep.
But why would she recognise her? She had done nothing but bring them into this
world. They hadn’t seen her for so long they had probably forgotten she
existed. They’ve only heard me scream. When she had been stronger, Jeyne used
to go and sit by the window whenever her husband gave her some peace. She had
seen them then; playing merrily in the snow as she and Sansa once had…
Jeyne’s thoughts were cut off by Leona releasing another shriek and resuming
her attack on Skinner. “That’s enough!” Ramsay bellowed. The girl’s eyes fixed
onto his then. Oh, please no…Leona. But it was too late. The defiance was
already there. Keeping her eyes on her father, Leona sunk her teeth into
Skinner’s leg. Ramsay released his grip on Jeyne’s arm and readied himself to
charge at his daughter and save his friend who was crying out in agony as the
girl refused to let him go. Jeyne wanted to move forward, to protect her
children. To her shame, she found that she couldn’t. Fortunately, her father in
law intervened. “No Ramsay.” Roose ordered. Ramsay stopped, though he continued
to glare at the child. “Leona, enough of that.” Roose kept his voice soft and
low. Leona stared at him. She furrowed her brow, deep in thought, trying to
figure out this new thing that made sounds. She was so curious that Skinner was
able to make his escape. Leona remained hunched on the floor, staring at Roose.
Laina moved over and sat down beside her. The room fell silent once Damon and
Skinner left the room. Only Jeyne, Roose, Ramsay, Reek and the twins remained.
“You may approach them now, Lady Arya.” Roose commanded in his soft voice that
felt like a knife drawn down her back. Jeyne sucked in her breath. This was the
moment she had been waiting for, but now that it came, she found that she was
afraid. Her husband moved to stand beside her and she began to tremble. “Go.”
He growled softly. Jeyne took an obedient step forward, then another, then
another. The two girls stared up at her. She crouched down and went onto her
knees so that she was in front of them.
They stared. They stared with those terrible eyes. Those eyes that flayed and
beat and hurt. She cowered away.
And still they stared.
“Laina, Leona, this is your mother. Do you understand that?” Jeyne heard Roose
Bolton’s voice, but it sounded so far away. All she could see were their eyes.
All she could smell was the dirt they were caked in. All she could hear was
Laina’s rhythmic breaths and Leona’s ragged ones. The twins over-whelmed her
senses. It frightened her. But her heart was ruling her head and she ignored
the instinct to turn and run away. “My girls.” She breathed, tears spilling
down her cheeks. “My baby girls.”
Perhaps she moved too quickly. Perhaps her hopes were too high. Perhaps she
knew too little about the nature of her children. Perhaps…perhaps…perhaps…
As she tried to embrace them, Laina shrank away towards her sister and Leona
reacted the only way she knew how.
Roose called out for Damon and Skinner. Ramsay ignored his order and ran in
like a bull, knocking his spawn away, beating them until they let go. Then he
dragged his wife away. She screamed, begging him not to, begging for them not
to be taken away. Begging to not be left alone with her husband. That drove
Ramsay to the edge and Roose knew it. He knew he would not be able to pull his
son back. He watched as Ramsay flung his wife onto the bed. Roose could abide
the screaming and the brutality of the rape was nothing new to him. But perhaps
for the first time in his life, Roose was horrified. The two girls, before
Damon and Skinner could grab them, ran towards their mother and father. Leona
leapt up onto her father’s back, biting and scratching, landing blows wherever
possible. Even Damon and Skinner forgot their orders and stared. The twins
seemed completely unaware of what their father was doing to their mother.
Perhaps they didn’t care. Laina watched as her sister attacked. Ramsay paused
mid-thrust to throw the girl from his back. “DAMON! SKINNER!” Roose yelled. The
two men were shaken out of their horror. They needed no instruction on what to
do.
Late that night, Roose sat by the fire, feeling tired and cold. His wife was in
the bed chamber, being tended to by the maester. He stared deep into the
flames. It was clear to him now that the relationship between the parents and
the children was beyond saving. This was good, it was what he’d wanted to know.
That was what the test had been about. It was the violence of it that shocked
him. The girls would never be normal, they were Ramsay’s children. They would
never be intelligent either. Perhaps they would be better off dead.
Roose considered it for a moment.
No. He needed them. It was unlikely that Ramsay would get any more children out
of his weak little wife, and finding another wife for him would be near
impossible. No doubt people would have heard of his sadistic bastard’s nature
by now. He was sure fathers would rather see their daughters murdered than give
them to such a monster.
Something must be done.
Yes, it did. But he couldn’t do this himself, at least not alone. Roose Bolton
was not made for raising children.
He picked up the quill and dipped it into the ink. Flattening the role of
parchment that waited in front of him, Roose began the letter.    
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter Summary
     Ramsay does too much thinking. Roose's helper arrives.
Ramsay was too distracted to involve himself in readying the castle for the
arrival of Lady Dustin. It was his father’s idea. He didn’t want the old hag
here, poking her nose around. The timing couldn’t have been worse either.
Meeting her children had done his wife more harm than good. The moment his
anger had cleared, and Ramsay had been able to focus, he had found her much
changed. His father must have taken the two brats away whilst he had restrained
his wife. He barely remembered what had happened. He was certain he’d raped
her, but that was nothing new. He couldn’t remember the exchange between mother
and daughters. The anger had wiped his memory clean. But it seemed his wife
remembered.
Ramsay glanced over at the bed where she lay still, propped up against the
pillows. She stared out of the window, seeing nothing. He could hear her ragged
breathing. She was paler than yesterday, how was that even possible? Had it not
been for the bruises, he wouldn’t be able to tell where his wife ended and the
sheets began. He was about to call out her name, to renew his efforts, but he
stopped himself. She was useless. She hadn’t been able to give him a son and
now she was failing to entertain him. Ramsay sighed and played with his pets
curls. He heard Reek groan softly at the touch. Reek had been oddly quiet too.
He seemed to be distracted by his own thoughts. Ramsay had threatened to flay
him for it yesterday and that appeared to have put things to rights again.
He barely noticed when Reek rested his head on his lap. If his father wasn’t
here, he could rid himself of his wife. He longed to give her a long and
entertaining death, but right now he’d be satisfied with just holding a pillow
over her face. Anything to stop those ragged breaths and the empty stares. Even
when he did make an effort to play with her, she would just stare and allow him
to do whatever he wanted. She wouldn’t even release a whimper.
Ramsay grabbed a fistful of curls and yanked hard in frustration, ignoring
Reek’s cry of pain. Now that bitch was coming, he wouldn’t get a chance. She’d
probably demand to see her as well. And she’d want to see the children.
Ramsay yanked at the dirty hair again.
Those fucking brats. He hated them both. One had thought she had the right to
touch his Reek, and the other…
Reek cried out in pain again. “I’m sorry my pet, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Ramsay smirked. Reek moaned and nestled his head deeper into his Master’s lap.
Ramsay fell back into his brooding silence once more, trying desperately to
block out his wife’s ragged breathing. Perhaps he could kill the girls. They
were always here or there. It wouldn’t be unusual for one of them to trip and
fall…down the stairs. Their tiny little necks would snap like twigs. Ramsay
smirked at the thought.
But then it would be impossible for him to approach them without them making a
commotion. Leona would start her attack before he even got a chance to grab
them. He could get someone else to do it, perhaps Damon or Skinner. But would
they be willing to kill two children with his father around? Besides, one of
the girls were bound to start screaming the moment the men laid a finger on
them.
He sighed in frustration. He was growing irritated with all this plotting. It
wasn’t what Ramsay enjoyed doing. His head ached from it all.
Deciding to think no more, he stood up suddenly, making Reek squeal in fear.
Immediately, his pet scrabbled onto all fours and began to rub his face up and
down his leg. “Get on the bed Reek.” Ramsay ordered. Outside he could hear
horses and people talking. “Let’s give Lady Dustin a welcome she won’t forget.”
He muttered under his breath, smiling.
She picked at the food. It was a poor meal. When the servant stepped forward to
pour her wine, she refused and waved it off. “I take it you have a good enough
reason for summoning me here Lord Bolton?” She asked, raising a thin eyebrow.
“I do.” He admitted, taking a sip of his wine.
“Well? What is it?” Lady Dustin was growing impatient. She did not wish to be
here, not under the Bastard’s roof. “Lady Arya appears to be barren and my son
has little chance of acquiring another wife.” Roose replied bluntly.
“Barren? As I recall, she bore two daughters, did she not?”
“Yes, she did, which my son is most unhappy about.” Roose Bolton admitted.
“Your bastard’s happiness has naught to do with me.”
“But it has plenty to do with my granddaughters. He has been so intent on
getting a son off of his wife that he has hardly acknowledged his two
daughters. They have grown up wild and violent.”
“How so?” Lady Dustin did her best to hide her curiosity.
“Before I arrived, they threw a baby from the battlements. No reason for it,
simply as a form of entertainment. When I arrived here, one of them attacked my
wife. They attacked her from behind, knocking her unconscious.” Lady Dustin
smirked. The girls must be strong if they were able to knock out someone as
large as Fat Walda.
“And why does this concern me? Surely it is the duty of the parents to see that
their children are brought up in an appropriate manner.” She watched Lord
Bolton as he stood from his chair and went to the window. They were silent for
a moment. She could see him staring at something below them. Then she heard the
faint sound of two girls, laughing and playing. “I’m not sure if they are even
aware that Ramsay is their father, nor Lady Arya their mother. There was an
incident before I arrived where one of them attacked Ramsay, though I don’t
doubt that he did something to provoke them.” Roose informed.
“They must know very little about their own father if they are bold enough to
attack him.” Barbrey snorted.
“Little and less. One is worse than the other. My spies tell me she has
wickedness in her enough for them both.” Roose continued looking out at the
window, observing the children.
“And what is it you wish for me to do?” Lady Dustin had heard enough to know
that it was the two children she had been summoned for.
“My son Domeric was a page in your household, and he grew up to be well
behaved, for a time anyway. I fear it may be too late for either of the twins
to be particularly intelligent, but if we can control them it will be easier to
find husbands for them when they come of age.”
“So you wish for me to educate them?” Barbrey was almost surprised by that.
“Not quite. They are inseparable. That is a problem. The more aggressive one,
Leona, regularly launches attacks at her sister. Laina will make no attempt to
protect herself. They don’t seem to understand that they are separate beings. I
feel it would be best if we were to separate them, and educate them apart. One
will remain here, the other will be put in your care. Barrowton is too far, but
there is a keep nearby that will suffice for now.” Roose spoke as though she
were given no other option.
“You are asking me to leave my lands and take care of one of your bastard’s
unruly children?”
“I’m not asking.” Lady Dustin sighed. He was her liege lord. She could feel his
trap slowly closing in around her. “Fine. Which one will I take?” She asked.
For the first time, she thought she saw Roose Bolton smile.
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter Summary
     The twins are torn apart and Reek finds someone he'd thought he'd
     lost.
Laina had one weakness.
Beneath her bed she kept a box. A little wooden chest filled with her treasure.
Like a magpie, she would take anything she found that glimmered and shone in
the light; shards of glass, a dented goblet. Once, on one of their ventures,
the twins had found themselves in Myranda’s chambers. Laina had left with her
arms full of the jewels she’d found, including the red ruby necklace that had
been Myranda’s favourite. Even Leona knew better than to disturb Laina’s box.
Checking her box was the only time of day that Laina and Leona were apart.
With this in mind, you could imagine Laina’s excitement when she wondered into
her room to count her treasures, and found a pile of glittering jewellery
beside her bed. So engrossed was she in her new toys, she never even heard the
door close behind her. By the time she heard the bolts slide shut, it was too
late. Laina’s head snapped around at the sound and she abandoned the jewels.
She walked, calmly, over to the door and tried to open it. If anyone had seen
her in that moment, they would have mistaken her for Leona. She attacked the
door like her sister had once attacked Ramsay; punching, scratching and
attempting to bite at the wood. But it proved to be futile and screams from
outside soon drew her away.
The room where the twins slept had never been meant for sleeping in. In fact,
it was an abandoned room in one of the defence towers on the inner wall. This
meant that the only form of a window came from the narrow slits that archers
would use if the castle was under attack. Laina could see out of it and at a
certain angle she could catch a glimpse of the courtyard below. She could see
one of the things carrying her sister down the steps, slung over his shoulders
and ignoring her attempts to fight. Then there was the man who had the same
eyes as her, and the fat woman too. There was another skinny woman but Laina
hadn’t seen her before. She spotted the smelly nice creature called Reek in the
shadows too. They stuffed her sister into a large box with wheels that was
pulled by the four legged creatures. Laina screamed out her sister’s name,
stretching her arm as far as she could out of the narrow slit. She heard her
sister’s faint reply. She could not hear what the skinny woman said to the man
with the eyes, but once they had exchanged words, the skinny woman got onto one
of the four legged creatures and the next moment they were heading out beneath
the gatehouse. They were taking her sister away from her!
Laina screamed at them. She screamed her sister’s name. She screamed what words
she knew. No one looked up at her. No one replied. Laina turned from the window
and went back to the door. As she sank to the ground, she dragged her hands
down the wood. She didn’t feel the splinters. She didn’t feel the pain. She
didn’t feel the blood on her skin.
Laina collapsed in a heap against the door. It was cold in her room, but she
didn’t feel it. The bare boards she sat on jutted up into her bones. But she
didn’t feel them. She didn’t feel anything. She was broken.
Reek watched the wheelhouse as it bounced away, the screams getting fainter and
fainter. The courtyard fell silent. People stopped their work to watch the
little monster leave. Despite what she’d done, Reek couldn’t help but taste the
pity and sadness in the air. Even Laina’s scream’s had ceased. Reek panicked
for a moment. What if the girl had done herself serious harm?
“Enough. You should not care about either of them. No one matter’s except
Master.” A voice spat at him. But the silence was so unsettling that it stirred
up something, something he thought he had lost. “No good will come of
this.”Came a small voice. Reek whimpered. He heard a sniff from nearby and
froze. “Was that for the best? It seems so cruel.” He heard Lady Walda cry
softly. Reek watched Lord and Lady Bolton from behind a curtain of hair. “You
surprise me my lady. I thought you would be glad to see the back of her.” Roose
Bolton said coldly, never taking his eyes away from the retreating wheelhouse.
Walda sniffed again. “She won’t attack you again.” Roose reassured her.
She didn’t attack her in the first place.
Reek was sure of that. When he had left Lady Walda in her chambers, the girls
had still been on the stairs. And there had still been two girls following him
down the hallway when Lady Bolton had been attacked.
***** Chapter 10 *****
Chapter Summary
     Leona arrives at her new home. Ramsay continues his quest to get his
     scream, and Ramsay always wins.
The next day, when Roose felt it was time, they went to Laina’s room. She
didn’t move when she heard the key in the lock and she didn’t react when they
shunted her out of the way to open the door. Laina didn’t look at them. Her
eyes were dead and her skin white as a sheet. She could have been mistaken for
a corpse had it not been for her lips that twitched. Had the men in the room
been silent for a moment, they would have heard the girl’s mantra; Leona,
Leona, Leona. Damon lifted the girl as easily as he might have lifted a feather
pillow. Roose led the way into the keep where a proper set of chambers had been
prepared for the child. It was in the large bed of these new chambers that they
left her. She fell into a fitful sleep almost as soon as her head touched the
pillow.
Lady Dustin had mentally prepared herself for what was to come. Roose had
warned her about Leona’s behaviour and she had also questioned many of the
servants. They had all given the same verdict; the child was wicked and evil.
That was why the girl’s behaviour had come as such a shock.
When they had opened the door of the wheelhouse, they had found her on its
floor. She didn’t even look at them when they went to get her out and she
walked quietly beside Barbrey, who held her hand firmly. At the entrance to the
keep, she had halted and looked back over her shoulder, moving forward when she
was told to. Perhaps Roose had been right. The two girls had just needed
separating and they would soon realise they were separate beings.
It took the night for Leona to react as her sister had done as soon as she’d
realised they were being separated. When Leona awoke the next morning, in a
strange room and by herself, she began her attack. The door was the first to
take the beating, followed by the window. Fortunately, Lady Dustin had
predicted the outburst. She had guards posted outside the door, which had been
bolted, and the windows had been barred.
Once the girl’s protests and sobs had silenced, Barbrey had entered the room.
The child looked up at her with pleading eyes. This was good. It had been the
first sign of a human emotion. Then Leona revealed her bloodied and torn hands.
Shards of wood stuck out of them and she had managed to tear off a few nails.
It appeared as though the door had won the fight.
Jeyne could hear Laina sobbing. One lonely child, crying into the night. I
should be crying too she thought. She twitched when she felt the cold blade
being dragged down her stomach. “Now, wife. I want you to scream for me.
Loudly. I want you to drown out the piteous cries of your daughter.” Ramsay
growled menacingly. The feel of the blade biting into her flesh felt distant,
as though she were watching it happen to someone else and could almost feel the
pain herself. But she didn’t. Daughter? I don’t have a daughter. I did once.
But you took her away.Jeyne wanted to cry. She wanted to wail and scream like
that little girl. She wanted to take that knife and…
Would I thrust it into his chest or my own?
She thought for a moment.
“That’s enough Reek.” Ramsay snapped. She vaguely felt the tongue removing
itself from between her legs. Her husband released an irritated sigh and rested
his hand on her bloody stomach. She didn’t feel it. Ramsay pressed harder,
forcing more blood out of the slit. “Listen wife, if you don’t scream, I will
take my knife downstairs and slice your daughter’s throat open. Understand?” He
was growing impatient now, she could tell. Jeyne’s eyes remained dead. She
stared at him. “Or better yet,” His tone was playful now. Jeyne frowned
slightly as he pressed the handle of the knife into her palm. “I’ll make you do
it.” He smiled at her. Jeyne stared down at the knife in her hand. The handle
was made of bone, worn smooth by years of service to its master. She looked up
and caught Reek’s gaze. It was just for a moment. But she saw it. Those
familiar blue eyes. You said you would take me away from here. Away from him.
But you lied.Her grip on the knife tightened, but Reek returned before she
could summon the strength to lunge forward. She loosened her grip on the handle
of the knife and sunk further back into the pillows, averting her eyes from
Reek and her sweet lord. Ramsay roared and grabbed her face, digging his
fingers into her cheeks and forcing her head around. “Listen to me! I am your
husband! You willdo as I ask!” He roared. Jeyne didn’t move. She stared into
those cold, ghost grey eyes. Those eyes that had caused her so much pain and
torment. Yet she couldn’t be scared now, not even if she tried. When she looked
into those eyes now, all she felt was a sadness that tore her already broken
heart into shreds.
Ramsay had never seen such a sight as this before. As he stared into those big
brown eyes, he realised she did not fear him. He snatched the knife away from
her. She was broken. Completely and utterly destroyed. He thought Reek was
broken. He thought he had broken her years ago. But he realised now that this
was a different kind of broken. This was a scene of total devastation. It was a
broken that could only be caused by something you cared deeply for. Something
youloved.
Ramsay snarled and stood up, moving away from her, repulsed by the notion. He
walked over to the cupboard, where he kept his favourite torture weapons. He
stopped for a moment, thinking. Ramsay smiled. He opened the cupboard and
pulled out a small stick. He hadn’t used it on Arya before because he knew the
damage it could cause, and he needed a child off of her. Now though…
He knew she would bear him no more children. His father knew that too. All she
did was lie in bed, getting smaller and smaller, closer and closer to death
each day.
Ramsay turned to face her, holding up the stick so that she could see it. It
wasn’t really a stick, truth be told. It had once been the end of a broom
handle. The wood was sanded down so that it was smooth, but Ramsay had had
small metal barbs screwed into the wood. The metal hooks and spikes were no
larger than the end of his pinkie finger. He approached Arya, who lay on the
bed, watching him. “Spread your legs for me, wife.” He ordered.
Ramsay laughed as he finally got his scream.
***** Chapter 11 *****
Chapter Summary
     Laina tries to adapt to her sister's absence. Roose tries to start
     putting Winterfell to rights. Myranda is given a task that she is not
     happy about.
Over the next few days, Laina was spotted roaming through the keep, looking in
the nooks and crannies, searching desperately for her sister. She had even
dared to search outside her mother’s chambers. She had wondered whether the
screams belonged to Leona. The nice smelly Reek man had appeared and shooed her
away. Then she had wondered outside and gone as far across the grounds as she
dared, slipping out of one of the smaller gates unnoticed. She had been gone so
long on the first day that Roose sent Steelshanks Walton after her. He found
her where the road to Winterfell met The Kingsroad. The girl had stared towards
the South, somehow knowing that was the direction her sister was. When he found
her, she had been dressed in nothing more than a cloak and linen shift. Her
skin had been cold as ice, but she did not tremble in the cold wind. She
allowed Steelshanks to lift her onto his horse and take her back to Winterfell.
She didn’t stop staring southwards until they were back within its walls.
Laina never wondered so far again.
The girl was completely unaware of her grandfather, who was watching her
closely; waiting for his cue. Roose observed her behaviour and realised she now
spent most of her time in the Godswood. He would sometimes allow himself to
wonder what she did there. Sometimes. Most of the time however, Roose was
running the North, and his son’s castles and lands. Ramsay didn’t even appear
at meal times and Lady Arya’s screams had started up again. Roose did not try
to stop him. Winterfell was better off without his son’s attempts at governing
it.
The running of Winterfell was worse than he had first thought. Many workers had
left, or suffered a worse fate. The castle was falling down about their ears
and now it looked as though they had a thief in their mists. The jewels that
had gone missing were clearly down to Laina’s magpie-like tendencies. But a lot
of food from the store cupboard had gone missing, and continued to do so daily,
despite there being only one child that fed itself. He had questioned the
servants; some more harshly than others. None of them had an explanation for
the disappearing food. What’s more, none of them were lying. Roose Bolton could
always tell. He would have put it down to his wife, but she only left her room
at meal times, frightened by Arya’s screaming and paranoid about being attacked
again, despite her attacker being many miles away.
Roose Bolton took a moment to consider Leona. He had received no word from Lady
Dustin. Perhaps that was a good thing. He stood up from his desk and moved over
to the window. The sun was beginning to set, and Laina would be returning from
her time in the Godswood soon, and it was time she began her lessons. Roose
sighed. It shouldn’t be his job to raise a child, but no one else was willing
to do it. He turned away from the window and made his way down to meet her.
“You.” He barked at a passing serving wench. “Your name?” He asked her. He’d
seen her before, but he had had no need to learn her name. “Myranda, m’lord.”
The girl replied.
“Wait here.” He ordered. Before stepping outside.
Myranda looked about the empty hallway in confusion. Why had he stopped her?
What did he want? She hadn’t been wanted by anyone for what felt like years.
Ramsay occasionally called on her for some fun with Reek or his bitch of a
wife, but other than that, she had been forgotten about. Roose Bolton
reappeared under the archway, with the girl by his side. Myranda gritted her
teeth. If there was one thing she hated more than the wife, it was the twisted
children. Ever since they’d arrived, people had expected her to be the one to
look after them, seeing as the mother and father were busy. But why should she?
It was her job to bed the father, not to put his children to bed. But now the
Warden of the North was steering the little bitch towards her. Myranda looked
down at it, trying her best to hide her disdain from Lord Bolton. “Take Laina,
get her cleaned up and suitably dressed, then bring her back down to the main
hall. She will dine with us this evening.” He informed. Myranda frowned and
felt the blood drain from her face. The last time she had tried to tell the
twins to do something, they had managed to knock her out. “Is something wrong?”
Roose Bolton asked.
“No, m’lord.” She replied. She would not allow herself to be frightened by a
little girl. “Hello.” Came a small voice. Myranda looked down at the girl,
shocked. She had never heard her speak before, at least not in the common
tongue. Myranda glanced at Lord Bolton. He seemed surprised as well. “Hello.”
Laina said again. Myranda wasn’t sure where the girl had learnt the word.
“Hello?” Laina sounded unsure now. The repetition irritated Myranda. “Come
m’lady.” She muttered, snatching the child’s hand and dragging her down the
corridor’s towards the girl’s chambers.
The girl sat still on the chair, allowing Myranda to run a comb through the
tangled mess that was her hair. The child seemed to actually enjoy it; she was
smiling. Myranda braided her hair, tugging roughly at the strands. That made
the girl giggle. Typical. Of course Ramsay’s daughter would enjoy pain.
Once the child was dressed and Myranda had scrubbed the dirt from the child’s
face, she took the girl by the hand and dragged her towards the door. “You are
ready m’lady.” Myranda muttered. When she stopped to close the door behind
them, she felt the little girl squeeze her hand. “Thank you.” Laina said,
looking up at her and smiling.
***** Chapter 12 *****
Chapter Summary
     Barbrey observes Leona's behaviour. Reek has two shadows. Myranda's
     service is required in more ways than one.
Lady Dustin observed her charge whilst under the pretence she was working at
her embroidery. Neither the pattern nor the child were making any progress.
After the first day, Leona had fallen into some sort of catatonic state. She
would go where you led her, eat what you gave her and sit still in the bath tub
while you cleaned her. But she would not speak. Barbrey sometimes wondered if
Leona knew that the people around her existed at all. Looking at her now,
Barbrey was sure of that she did not. The girl stared into nothing, not even
out of the window. The wall was apparently as alive as anything else in the
room. It sent a chill through Lady Dustin. There was something inhuman about
that gaze. The set of cold eyes that never blinked. She’s simple. It wasn’t the
first time the thought had come to her, and it was completely possible. The
girl had grown up with no one but her twin. Perhaps she had been hit in the
head and had the wits knocked from her. With no one around to take care of
them, there would have been no one to notice if she had fallen down the stairs.
She could’ve wondered into the stables and gotten kicked in the head by a
horse. Or the reason could lie within her blood. The bastard was the cruellest
kind of insane a man could be. It was a possibility that he had passed some of
his madness on to his child. But with Leona in her trance, it was impossible to
tell whether she was the wicked monster everyone believed her to be, or if she
was just a simpleton.
Barbrey wondered whether or not Roose was getting along any better with the
other child. She had sent no word to him because she had no words. There was
nothing to report. There was nothing.
Barbrey sighed and placed the embroidery in the basket beside her. She could
not return to Lord Bolton with the same badly behaved child she had left with.
The girl would learn, one way or another.
She stood up and made her way towards the child.
Roose was making good progress with the other twin. She did not say much, but
her vocabulary was growing. No one was sure how. She spent most of her days in
the Godswood alone. Some fools believed the Old Gods were teaching her words.
There were even whispers that she was playing with the Children of the forest;
that they had appeared again to guide the child. Some people claimed to have
heard several children laughing and playing. No one suggested these ideas to
Roose Bolton, of course.
Sometimes, when he wasn’t with his Master, she would find Reek. They would say
nothing to each other. In fact, Reek hardly saw her most of the time. But she
would shadow him as he made his way around the castle, collecting a meal for
his Master or a new torture weapon to be used on Lady Arya. Reek always sensed
when she was following him and it put him on edge. He didn’t dare to shoo her
away; Master had not given him permission to do that and someone might see and
tell him what Reek had done.
Laina ate with her grandfather and grandmother at mealtimes, always knowing
when it was time to come in and be prepared for a meal. She allowed Myranda to
bath her and take care of her. For some reason, she seemed to like Myranda
best. The girl would always smile when she saw Myranda waiting for her at
mealtimes, which Myranda always did. Myranda would not go as far as to say she
liked the child, but she did enjoy the company. Laina always gave Myranda her
fullest attention and, without words, would admire her clothing; touching the
silk dresses and staring for as long as she could at the jewels around the
dainty neck. It was the first time in a long time that anyone had paid Myranda
this much attention, and it was perhaps the first time she had ever been
adored.
One afternoon however, someone else required Myranda’s service.
Ramsay had ordered Reek to bring her to him and she had gone willingly; already
bored by the company his men provided. They all had cocks and were more brutal
than normal men, but none of them compared to Ramsay. But what had greeted her
in his chambers was enough to shock her. Ramsay had brought one of his dogs in,
it had been at Arya already. Bite-marks and sores covered the woman’s thighs
and cunt. There was a stench of rotten meat in the air, left over from what
Ramsay had stuffed between his wife’s legs, no doubt. She had asked him about
it, in an approving tone of course. “My wife’s belly seems to have been such a
nice place for my sons that they never wished to come out, so I’m
redecorating.” He had laughed. He’d sounded like a child; a spoilt boy that
hadn’t gotten his way, and so was making sure he did in future. He had made
Myranda shove her hand inside his wife and use her nails to scratch and tear,
though there was no place that could be reached that was not already ruined.
When Myranda had told him she would rather please him, and him alone, he had
gone wild; threatening to shove some spiked stick up her own cunt if she didn’t
do as he’d bid. So she did, with him forcing himself into her from behind all
the while. She’d tried her best to focus on that instead of the blood that had
covered her hands and lower arms, and Arya’s pathetic whining.
Once Ramsay had climaxed, he’d pushed her out of the way and ordered the dog to
clean Arya up. Again. What was worse was that he had then turned to Myranda and
ordered her to do the same, staring at her arm that was covered with blood.
Myranda could still taste it.
By the time they were done and Ramsay dismissed her, it was almost time for her
to meet Laina. Myranda hurried down to the entrance of the keep and waited.
Laina didn’t appear. Myranda frowned, then shrugged. She would go and find her.
A walk in the fresh air helped to cleanse her and she felt refreshed by the
time she was in the Godswood.
She found Laina beneath the Weirwood tree, with a bunch of sad looking flowers
in her hand, staring into the trees. “Laina? You’re late.” Myranda called, not
ungently. “Where have you been?” She asked, not expecting an answer.
“We played in the woods.” Laina replied, smiling when she saw Myranda. Myranda
stopped, surprised. Don’t be shocked, she’s just a child. “You should say
Iplayed in the woods.” Myranda corrected sternly.
“Iplayed in the woods.” Laina repeated.
“And what did you play?” Myranda asked. This was good. Perhaps, if Lord Bolton
knew she was teaching the girl, she would be rewarded. I won’t have to shove my
hand into someone’s bloody cunt again. “We picked some flowers.” Laina said,
clutching the flowers in her hands tightly.
“It’s I,not we, fool. Your twin isn’t with you anymore, remember? She’s far
away. Come on.” Myranda put a firm hand on Laina’s arm and guided her out of
the Godswood.
Later that night, as she was tucking Laina to bed, Myranda asked “What did you
do with your flowers?” She prayed they had not been hidden somewhere in the
room. She didn’t want to find them a month later and have to clean them up when
they were covered in flies. “We saved them for Leona.” The girl said, closing
her eyes and drifting into sleep. Myranda stood up. It suddenly felt colder. We
saved them for Leona. Shivering, Myranda fled from the room.
***** Chapter 13 *****
Chapter Summary
     Reek is suffering from torments. Both internal and from those around
     him. His shadows close in on him.
I should kill her he thought. While they sleep, I should do her a kindness and
smother her with a pillow.
Reek whined and shook his head violently in an attempt to remove the thoughts
from his head. They were beginning to come to him more often now. Those
poisoned words, that toxic voice. It promised him pain. Not death. He had never
been that lucky. He’d know. If I killed her, he’d know it was me.
Reek watched as Ramsay launched another attack on his wife, feeling glad that
he hadn’t been asked to join in. Yet.
I’d lose a finger.
Jeyne screamed.
Or a toe.
She begged him for mercy.
Or he’d use me in her place.
Reek knew which was worse, and which his Master would choose. He averted his
eyes from the bed into the empty fireplace, trying to block out the grunts,
growls and screams. He should get the fire lit. It was cold in Jeyne’s
chambers. It’s always cold in Jeyne’s chambers.
Eventually, his Master had need of him. “Clean me up Reek.” Ramsay ordered. The
moment Reek heard the voice, Theon was scared back into his hiding place. Reek
scrambled forward on his hands and knees in a desperate rush to reach his
Master before Ramsay grew angry with him. He cleaned his Master with his tongue
and his mouth, because dogs didn’t have hands. “And my wife, Reek.” Ramsay said
softly, caressing Reek’s curls. Reek looked up at his Master. “Please.”He had
to bite his tongue to stop from saying it. “Please, don’t make me go to her.”
But Ramsay knew how much his pet disliked it, so Reek received a cruel smile.
“Go and clean my wife up Reek.” Master ordered. Reek crawled over to the bed
and leapt onto it. Immediately, Jeyne’s whimpering ceased. She fixed him with a
pair of cold brown eyes. “You said you would take me away from here. Away from
him. But you lied.”They screamed. “It wasn’t my fault. I wanted to get away
too. But the Bolton’s beat Stannis, and they caught us.”Reek whimpered. When he
felt Jeyne twitch and then force herself to remain still as he licked her
clean, he wanted to retch.
A man would save her.
No! He had thought this before. He had tried to be a man before. He had tried
to redeem himself before. And look what had become of them both; almost seven
years of pain and torment. I can’t let it happen again. She was Lady Arya, of
House Stark, as he was Reek, it rhymed with…
“REEK!” He heard Ramsay roar. He stopped licking immediately. How had he not
heard his Master’s voice? Reek leapt off of the bed, ignoring the pain in his
hand and knees as he hit the floor. He flopped and scrabbled to his Master,
rubbing his face against Ramsay’s leg in hope of forgiveness. Reek squealed as
his Master wrenched his head back by a fistful of hair. “Did you enjoy that my
pet? Did you enjoy looking after my wife? Were you trying to please her?”
Ramsay’s tone was dangerously kind. Be careful. “No Master! I am your Reek!
Good Reek! Loyal Reek! It rhymes with weak, meek and…”
“Are you saying you didn’t enjoy my wife? Did she not make you happy, sweet
pet?” Reek stared up at his Master, flabbergasted. What does he want? Reek
whined, thinking desperately, searching for an answer. “Oh Reek, my sweet fool!
I was simply jesting!” Ramsay laughed, tussling his pet’s hair. “You may leave
us for now Reek. Come back later with my dinner.” Reek whispered his thanks,
but Ramsay was already heading back towards the bed. Without hesitation, Reek
fled the room, fearing his Master would change his mind and call him back.
He could sense his shadow following as he wondered through the castle. Laina
kept to the shadows. He never turned around. He couldn’t risk being seen
communicating with the child. It didn’t mean he couldn’t hear her though.
She was giggling. It sounded almost as though there were two of them, muttering
things to one another. It no longer hurt when people laughed at him. In fact it
was a daily occurrence.
But this was different.
Hearing the laughter of little girls reminded him of painful memories of when
there used to be three little girls in the castle. One was wild and unruly,
always causing trouble. But the other two had been inseparable; always laughing
together, gossiping, dreaming, and stealing lemon cakes…
Theon shivered in the cold air. The Godswood hadn’t always been this cold, but
these were different times. He found himself standing before the Weirwood tree,
beside the spot where Lord Eddard would sharpen Ice. The sword that could’ve
killed me.No. The sword that should’ve killed me.It was true, and death at the
hand of a man he had wished was a father would have been a blessing…
What have I become?
Theon fell to his knees and wept. He knew there was no use in praying. His God
was far away and he had never listened to him anyway. There are no Gods, and if
there are, they are crueller than Ramsay.Theon’s sobs caused his whole body to
shudder, and he clutched his chest, as though he had just felt his heart for
the first time in a long while. He let the tears rip him apart. He cried for
the Stark’s, and the rest. He still remembered the way Asha’s eyes had glassed
over, the anger and betrayal fading from them as Ramsay sliced her open and
made Theon pull out her entrails and throw them on the fire. He remembered Jon;
saved by the Red woman’s kiss only to be burned alive as Ramsay laughed at the
irony of it. “Kissed by fire.” Ramsay and his men had chanted, before he
ordered Theon to light the pyre. He remembered young Rickon too, when he had
been found. He met the fate that he would have done had it been him and not the
two orphans back when he had been the Prince of Winterfell. Ramsay made him
kill him too. “Reek killed the boy before, Reek can kill him now too.” He had
laughed. And Reek had done it, but Theon remembered…
“Theon.” Came a small voice. Theon looked up, and wiped away his tears. For a
moment, he thought the tree had spoken. But the mouth remained still; it gaped
open, waiting for the wail of grief that never came. “Theon.” The voice was
clearer now, and he realised that it was coming from behind him. He looked over
his shoulder. His heart stopped. Behind him stood not one shadow, but two.
***** Chapter 14 *****
Chapter Summary
     Roose holds a feast. Ramsay's behaviour is frighteningly good and he
     makes a strange introduction. Theon finds a friend.
The Lords and Ladies gathered in the courtyard whilst the Warden of the North
spoke. Ramsay tuned out, focusing instead on his pet. For once, Reek wasn’t
looking at him. Instead, he stared towards the centre of the courtyard at the
body. But there was something more in the creatures’ eyes. He wasn’t present.
If he was, he would have noticed his Master looking at him. Was it grief? No.
The two had grown distant. Ramsay believed there had even been a little
resentment there. “It’s alright Reek. At least you won’t have to share me now.”
Ramsay whispered to him. Reek flinched. “Yes Master.” His pet replied. Ramsay
smirked, but then noticed that his pet remained distant. He would have time to
ask him about that later, but now he was needed. His father nodded to him and
Ramsay turned to his men and repeated the order. They moved forward and picked
up the body. He wasn’t sure how he felt when he looked at it. He had not given
her permission to die, and when it happened he’d felt an overwhelming sense of
anger and frustration. He’d taken it out on the body, then his room and then
Reek. His father had had to send in his men to restrain him until he calmed
down. By the time the men had reached the raging Lord, it had been too late for
Lady Arya. It seemed strange that she looked healthier in death than she had
looked in life. “Death becomes you, wife.” He whispered to her as he carried
her towards the crypt. Reek led the way. He had been the only one that had
known where it was. Ramsay hadn’t wanted to bury her there. He hadn’t wanted
Reek to go down there either. “He was the one to give her to you, so he can be
the one to lead her to peace.” His father had argued. “She must be buried in
the crypts. She is a Stark, after all.”
The crypts stank of Starks. The old Kings of the North glared down at them as
they passed. In front of him, Ramsay could hear Reek whimpering. His pet
stopped abruptly. “Keep going Reek.” Ramsay growled. His wife wasn’t heavy, but
Ramsay did not wish to be in the crypts longer than he needed to be. He could
sense that his men felt the same. Lady Arya was laid to rest beside her father.
Ramsay had to stifle a laugh as his gaze met Lord Eddard’s stony glare. Your
true daughter’s rotting dead in a ditch somewhere, my Lord, so this steward’s
whelp will have to serve. You don’t mind, do you?He thought. He smirked at the
stone Lord, then he heard Reek whimper again. Turning, he spotted his pet
staring into an empty space where a tomb should be. “Would you like me to get
his bones and bury him in his true place, Reek?” Ramsay asked, hooking an arm
around his pet’s thin shoulders. Reek stared at him, shocked. “I’m afraid we’ve
lost his skull, but we can always find another wolfs head. That would serve.
Would you like that Reek?” Ramsay’s men chuckled.
“I only want what you want Master.” Reek replied, his voice quivering.
“Well then, what we want will have to wait. I have guests to see Reek! I cannot
spend all of my time with you! Don’t be so selfish.” Ramsay laughed as Reek
cowered from his scolding. “Let’s get out of here. The scent of dead wolves is
making me want to retch.” Ramsay’s men cheered as he led the way from the
crypts.
Roose observed the scene before him. The Great Hall was fuller than it had been
in a long time, but that did not mean that it was noisy. People still mourned
the loss of the Lady of Winterfell, despite the fact they had not seen the
woman for years. Roose hoped the mood would lift soon. And he was about to find
out. Silence fell as the doors were flung open. The serving girl Myranda held
Laina tightly by the hand, leading her in some of the way. Then she let go.
Everyone stared at the young girl. Roose was relieved to see that there was no
sense of bewilderment in the girls ghost grey eyes. She walked through the
centre of the tables, in the sight of all the guests. Her hair was brushed and
clean, tumbling down her back in neat, dark brown curls. She wore a dress of
grey silk, in memory of her mother. Not that she knew that. Laina looked at
Roose, recalling his instructions. She walked up to the dais and curtsied
neatly. The room remained silent. Roose heard the scrape of a chair against the
floor and turned to see Ramsay standing from his place at the table. Roose said
nothing. He couldn’t. As his son moved around the table and approached the
child, Roose wondered what he was planning.
The room held its breath.
Ramsay knelt before the girl and grasped her shoulders with his large hands.
Roose narrowed his eyes slightly and grasped the arm of his chair a little
tighter. Ramsay pulled the girl towards him and kissed her, almost fondly, on
the cheek. He smiled, as did Laina. “Lords and Ladies!” Ramsay called, standing
up, but keeping a firm hand on the girl’s shoulder. “May I introduce Laina
Bolton, my daughter.” To Roose’s relief, the people cheered. As Ramsay led his
daughter down to meet the Lords and Ladies, Roose ordered Steelshanks over to
him. “Send word to Lady Dustin. Tell her to send the other one back.”
Steelshanks nodded and moved away. Roose returned to watching his
granddaughter.
Reek left the Great Hall while Laina was being introduced to the Lords and
Ladies. Ramsay has a new pet Reek thought. He shuddered, but wasn’t sure
whether it was from that thought or the cold. Only the moon watched him as he
crossed the courtyard towards one of the defence towers. All of the guards had
gone indoors, to get their share of meat and mead. He hurried up the stairs,
ignoring his aching joints. He wouldn’t have long. If he spent too much time
away, his Master would notice.
Theon locked the door behind him and pulled out the food he had hidden. He
moved across the room where she waited for him and settled the stolen meat down
in front of her, before sitting down himself. The girl picked at the food
delicately and chewed small mouthfuls. She stared at him with her curious gaze,
assessing who he was today. “Hello Theon.” She said at last. Theon still
flinched as he tried to crush Reek’s protests. Vyda continued regardless. “Are
you ready for my story, Theon?”  
***** Chapter 15 *****
Chapter Summary
     “What’s your story then, Theon?” She asked, fixing him with her cold
     eyes. He looked away. “I don’t have a story.” He lied.
     “Everybody has a story. If you keep it to yourself it dies and comes
     back to haunt you.” He lifted his sad blue eyes to meet her gaze.
The woman’s name was Rana. She was a whore that had grown up in winter town.
Her mother was a whore too, the highlight of her life being that she fucked a
member of the Kings guard when King Robert came to Winterfell. Not Jaime
Lannister, though it wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried. Rana had been too young to
be of any use back when the King had visited, but by the time the Starks were
gone and Winterfell had burned, she had lost count of the number of men she’d
fucked. When the Bolton’s had marched to Winterfell, Rana followed the troops
to the castle and soon was walking, bow legged, through the ruins that Lord and
Lady Stark had walked through once. It was quite an achievement for a girl of
fifteen. She was pretty, in a common sort of way. And she was good at her job.
These factors made her almost every man’s first choice.
She wasn’t Ramsay’s though. He’d already raped and killed five women by the
time he reached her. After he discovered his wife and Reek were missing, he had
gone on the rampage; attacking both men and women on a path of destruction he
made through the ruins of Winterfell. Perhaps it was the whores luck, or fate,
that one of Ramsay’s men found him and told him they’d found his wife and Reek.
They hadn’t, but that didn’t matter to Rana. She lived. But a piece of Ramsay
had stayed with her. Perhaps it was because there was an army at the walls, or
that the only woman that mattered had needed to get with child. Either way, the
ingredients could not be found to brew any moon tea. By the time the child was
born, Stannis had been defeated and Rana fled back to winter town before anyone
noticed the child’s queer set of ghost grey eyes.
Rana loved her child, despite how she came to be. The girl grew up in a
brothel; cleaning during the day and hiding in the attic at night. When she was
four, she met a man who taught her to read and write, so she would practise
that as the whores worked. She asked her mother about her father, simply out of
curiosity. Her mother told her nothing. When she was six, her mother died of a
fever. A child was the last thing needed in a brothel. “Where will I go?” The
child had cried as they’d thrown her meagre bag into her hands. The owner of
the brothel had grabbed her by the hair and dragged her before the looking
glass. “There’s your answer.” He’d spat. “Go back to your father, Snow. We
don’t need more mouths to feed.” He’d spat as he shoved her out into the cold.
“And so you came here?” Theon asked Vyda. She nodded. “And it was you who stole
the food?” She nodded again. “And you attacked Lady Walda?” Reek squealed and
scampered away as she threw a chunk of rock at him.  
There was silence for a moment as Theon pushed Reek away and crawled back over
to her. “What’s your story then, Theon?” She asked, fixing him with her cold
eyes. He looked away. “I don’t have a story.” He lied.
“Everybody has a story. If you keep it to yourself it dies and comes back to
haunt you.” He lifted his sad blue eyes to meet her gaze. He knew her eyes were
cold, but what was there froze him to the core. She stood up and moved away
from him. “You should go Reek, your master will have need of you soon.” She
picked up one of the books he had found her and began to read, not raising her
eyes as Reek left the room.
Reek hobbled down the corridors, trying desperately to forget. Everybody has a
story. If you keep it to yourself it dies and comes back to haunt you. He felt
tears stinging his eyes. Everyone knows the story of Theon Turncloak, and Reek
doesn’t have a story. Reek only has masterwho, to his horror, was already in
his chamber when Reek stumbled through the doorway. “My Reek! You’ve come to me
at last!” He called from the bed where he lay. Reek immediately dropped to his
hands and knees and crawled over to his Master. To his surprise, Ramsay didn’t
get up, he simply dropped his hand down. Without hesitation, Reek began to lick
and kiss it. Suddenly, before Reek knew what was happening, Ramsay grabbed him
and pulled him up onto the bed, pinning him down beneath him. “Please
Master…please…” Reek whimpered as Ramsay pressed down into him.
“You’re late Reek.” Ramsay growled softly, pushing down so deep into his pet
that Reek thought he would disappear into the feather mattress.
“I’m sorry Master…please…forgive your Reek…ple…” Reek was cut off when Ramsay
covered his mouth with his own. When his master pulled away, Reek gasped, both
in shock and in need of air. “Where have you been pet?” Ramsay smiled
menacingly and allowed his hands to wonder down to the space between Reek’s
legs. Reek didn’t know what to say. He whimpered and cried out as Ramsay
pressed his finger in. “I…I…I was in the defence tower!” He howled. Ramsay
removed his hand immediately. “And what were you doing there pet? Has it fallen
to you to protect my castle? I must hire more men! Gods help us if we have to
rely on you to guard Winterfell!” Ramsay laughed. He seemed to forget his
question and brought his lips back down onto Reek’s. He had kissed Reek before,
but this was different. It was no longer rough. When Ramsay pulled away, there
was no blood. For the first time in years, his master touched him and kissed
him almost gently. There was no underlying anger of frustration, and Reek found
himself clinging to his master, longing for this new found closeness. “Oh, my
Reek. Have you missed me all these years? Did you hate having to share me with
that useless wife of mine? Well, now you don’t have to.” Ramsay pulled away.
Had Theon not hidden himself so deep inside Reek, he would have felt an
unbearable amount of shame, for as Ramsay pulled away, Reek clung to him,
longing for his master’s mouth again. Ramsay laughed, his cold eyes shining.
“Do you love me, Reek?” Ramsay asked.
“Yes, of course master. I am your Reek. I will always be your Reek.” He
answered without hesitation.
“Show me then.” His master ordered, grinning. Theon whimpered as Reek obliged.
 
***** Chapter 16 *****
Chapter Summary
     Roose receives a granddaughter and a raven. He isn't sure which is
     worse.
“I tried, my Lord.” Was all Lady Dustin said. The girl stared up at her
grandfather in sullen silence. “Take Leona up to her chambers. See that she is
fed.” Roose ordered and Myranda obeyed, despite her hatred for the child. Leona
made no attempt to resist Myranda as she was led away. “I thank you for your
help, Lady Dustin.” Roose muttered as he watched the child go inside.
“You won’t be thanking me once she has had rest. There is wickedness in that
child, Lord Bolton, and try as I might I could not purge her of it. It’s in her
blood.” Barbrey admitted.
“I shall decide what is to be done with her soon enough. Will you stay here
before you return to Barrowton? There is room enough for you and your men.”
“I thank you for the offer, but no. Sleeping beneath the roof of two monsters
is more than I can stand.” Roose did not show it, but he was surprised by her
bluntness. It was not the way she should speak to her liege Lord. Clearly, the
time she had spent with his granddaughter had done them both more harm than
good. “Goodbye Lord Bolton.” She turned away and mounted her chestnut courser
before Roose could bid her farewell. As she rode out beneath the gatehouse, he
spotted a man running towards him from the maester’s chambers. “M’lord!” He
called. He knelt before his Lord, gasping for breath, and held up a letter.
“What is it?” Roose asked, taking the parchment and picking at the pink wax.
“News from the Dreadfort, m’lord.” Roose Bolton read the letter and went inside
without another word.
Laina was playing in the Godswood. She stopped and lifted her head. She sniffed
the air, and began to head back to the keep. People stopped to watch as she
walked through the courtyard, into the keep and up the stairs into her chambers
without breaking her stride.
That first night the twins spent clinging to each other; gazing into each
other’s eyes, blinking in unison. The connection began to heal, but the wounds
they’d suffered would leave scars, as most deep wounds do. To Leona, the time
she had spent away from her sister had not existed. It was simply a black hole.
She did not know whether it had lasted ten years or ten seconds. For Laina it
was different. She had adapted to her sister’s absence. At first it had been
hard and it had hurt; like someone who had lost a limb. It hurt at first, but
the wound would heal and they would carry on with life.
But Leona did not yet know about the change in her sister and for now, they
were content with having each other once more.
Without Theon or Laina, Vyda’s evening was a lonely one. She had finished all
the books Theon had found for her and the window in the abandoned defence tower
was so small it was almost impossible to look out of it, and the view never
changed anyway. Besides playing with Laina in the Godswood, Vyda’s days had
grown rather dull. Theon hardly visited. Reek did. He would bring her food,
then scurry back to his master. More often than not now, she didn’t even see
him, he would just leave the meal outside her door. It was one of these meals
she was picking at now. She missed Theon. As another cry of grief rang out from
somewhere inside the castle, Vyda pushed the plate of food away and hugged her
knees tightly. She began to sing to herself quietly.
Back at the Dreadfort, Roose had thought his son’s screams had been irritating.
He would gladly have them ringing through the castle all night rather than his
wife’s incessant sobbing. But there was nothing he could do to stop her. Dark
wings, dark wordsthe saying went. And over these past few months it had rung
true. First he had received word that Ramsay was failing to rule, now his son
was dead. A fever had taken him, apparently. His wife didn’t believe that
though. And now the Dreadfort had fallen into chaos, unsure of what to do
without their Lord. “My Lord.” Roose turned his head to see Steelshanks
standing in the doorway. “I’m sorry for your loss.” The man didn’t sound sorry,
but Roose did not take it as a slight.
“Inform the men that we are to return to the Dreadfort. I plan to leave before
the week is out.” Roose ordered.
“Yes my Lord.” Steelshanks bowed his head and left. Roose took a sip of wine.
He could not stay here forever. At least one of the girls had learned how to be
a lady. He could organise a marriage for her when she came of age. His spies
would tell him when that time came. The other one…only time would tell. If she
got too out of hand he would have to deal with her. So far though, she had
caused no trouble. Barbrey’s methods appeared to have mellowed her slightly.
Roose just hoped that was enough.
***** Chapter 17 *****
Chapter Summary
     Almost seven years have passed since Roose Bolton left Winterfell.
     The girls have reached womanhood and decisions must be made.
Despite her failure to make Leona into a normal young lady, Barbrey Dustin had
been right about one thing. Not that she lived to see it.
The years chewed away at the walls of Winterfell like they did at Ramsay
Bolton’s mind. He had always been cruel, but he had always known what he was
doing. Now though, he never seemed to realise when he caused someone pain. The
only person who could restore his wits long enough to bring him under control
was Reek. But that did not mean he escaped unscathed.
Winterfell had returned to the state it had fallen into seven years ago, before
Roose Bolton had last visited. However, only two workers now remained. An old
Reek and a bow legged Myranda. Some of the Bastard’s boys remained too. Ben
Bones was dead, but the others were alive. The rest of the servants had fled,
died, or both, considering what mood Ramsay had been in at the time.
And the girls in all of this?
As they grew up, they looked less and less alike and the people that remained
were able to tell them apart. Leona was a serious child, always the one to make
decisions and looked after her sister. Laina was as simple as she’d been when
she was six. They had not escaped Ramsay either, though his mood changed with
his bouts of insanity. Sometimes, rare as it was, he was almost nice.
One day, when the girls were little older than ten years, he’d walked in on
them fighting over a chunk of stale bread and a pathetic excuse for a chicken
leg. Laina had gained the bread and stuffed it into her mouth, resulting in
Leona tackling her to the floor in a confusion of dirty clothes, unwashed legs
and greasy, unbraided hair. They had not eaten for two days. Leona won the
piece of bread back and the fighting resumed over what remained of the chicken.
They never even heard the footsteps. “What’s this?” The voice was so quiet,
they barely heard it. Perhaps it was the sense of danger that caused them to
stop fighting. They immediately turned to face the doorway where Ramsay stood
with Reek at his side. Leona wiped the grease from her hands onto her dress.
Laina followed suit. “Well?” Ramsay turned to Reek, expectantly.
“Your daughters, Master.” Reek muttered, not looking at them. Ramsay blinked
several times. “Really?” He sounded almost surprised. “They’ve grown.” Ramsay
pointed out. He pulled out his flaying knife, tracing the worn bone that the
handle was made out of. “Come here.” He ordered, smiling brightly. Everyone
apart from Ramsay watched the blade as he waved it around, the metal shining
with evil intent. Leona moved first. Once again, Laina followed. Ramsay lifted
a matted lock of hair, unperturbed when Leona shrank away slightly. His fingers
tightened. The girl tensed, waiting for his mood to turn or for him to forget
his strength. “Which one are you?” He asked softly.
“L…Leona, my lord.” She replied with every courtesy.
“And you?” He turned to look at Laina.
“That’s Laina.” Leona answered.
“Why are you not at your lessons? My father is teaching you, is he not? He said
he would!” Ramsay exclaimed, becoming irritated. Leona looked to Reek in
desperation. “Your father has left, Master. He went yesterday afternoon.” Theon
lied. Ramsay turned on him instantly. “I can always tell when you are lying
Reek.” He growled. They held their breath, waiting for their lord to strike
out. “My father left the day before yesterday, not yesterday afternoon. Are you
trying to confuse me Reek?” Reek cowered from the ice cold gaze.
“S…sorry Master…I…I forgot.” Reek insisted. The coldness in Ramsay’s eyes
receded a little and he turned back to the girls. “What is that behind your
back, Leona?” He asked gently, cocking his head to one side. Leona knew better
than to hesitate. As soon as Ramsay saw the meat in Leona’s hand, he grabbed
her wrist and growled “Where did you find that? When was the last time you
ate?”
“When your father left, my lord. It was in the kitchens!” Leona answered, her
voice trembling.
“Did you steal it? Be quiet!” He bellowed before they had the chance to reply.
“I should have Damon whip you so hard you won’t be able to sit down until it
snows in Dorne!” The girl did not tremble, nor did she cry out as his grip bit
into her flesh. She didn’t dare blink away the tears though. She continued to
meet his gaze whilst one ran down her cheek. “Where is their mother?” Ramsay
growled, turning to Reek. “I’ll teach her for abandoning her children!” The
room was silent.
It was the first time Ramsay had forgotten what had happened to his wife.
“Master, Lady Arya is dead.” Reek muttered. The silence continued. “What?”
Ramsay gasped. He met each gaze, his eyes filled with disbelief. “Why did no
one tell me?” His voice was no higher than a whisper. For a terrifying moment,
it looked as though Ramsay Bolton was going to cry. Only for a moment. He
straightened himself. “Reek, give these two food and find them some new
clothes.” He stared down at Leona for a moment, as though puzzled, then marched
from the room.
After that meeting, they did their best to listen for his footsteps, and flee
before he could find them.  
Myranda turned the letter over in her fingers. The pink wax and the flayed man
betrayed its contents. Now doubt Lord Bolton had assumed his granddaughters had
come of an age to be married. They had bled as they did everything else; Leona
first, then Laina. She had been the one to explain to them what had happened.
Laina had stared wide eyed at her sheets. Leona, on the other hand, seemed less
surprised.
She wondered where they were now as she made her way through the castle with
the letter. The keep was silent, thank the Gods. It was when she could hear
those heavy footsteps that she would have cause to fear. It was strange how the
girl she had once feared had now become a bearable companion, whilst the man
she had once found company with was now the one she feared.
Skinner was the first one she came across. He was feeding what few animals they
had in the yard. “Skinner!” She called, striding across the courtyard. He
turned away from her. “What do you want?” He growled.
“There was a raven from the Dreadfort.” She muttered when she was close enough.
He looked at her then and took the letter from her hands. “You shouldn’t be
giving that to me.” He shoved it back at her.
“Who else am I going to give it to? Our lord? I wonder if he will even remember
whose sigil it is.” She snapped.
“Fine.” He spat and snatched the letter back, tearing it open.
“So? Who are they to marry?” She asked, glancing around the courtyard,
expecting to see them both peering out at them.
“No one.” He replied, his voice barely higher than a whisper. Myranda turned
back to face him and was shocked by how pale he had become. “What is it? What’s
happened?” She would have grabbed the letter and read it herself if she’d known
how to read.
“Lord Bolton is dead.” The silence swallowed them and the courtyard grew
slightly colder.
“Let our son go. He should have lands of his own and learn how to rule. He
can’t do that here.” Margaery insisted, pouring herself more wine.
“The Northmen will follow strength and strength alone. They won’t follow a ten
year old boy. I can’t risk it.” King Tommen argued. He read through the letter
again. “It has been decided that Robert will go to your brother in Highgarden.
He can learn there.”
“Very well my King. Who do you suggest we appoint as Warden of the North?” The
Queen asked softly. Tommen thought for a moment. What would my grandfather do?
“Ramsay Bolton.”
They both laughed.
“Or Butterbumps?” They laughed again. Tommen’s laughter soon guttered out.
Who?He sighed in frustration. “What is it my love?” His wife asked.
“I don’t know who to choose.” He admitted.
“Then allow me to choose for you.” She took his hand in her own. “My brother,
Garlan. He has his lands in Blackwater Keep, I know. But say the word and he
would do as you bid. He is strong and he could hold the North for you.” She
assured him.
“You know wife, sometimes I think you make these suggestions just to hear my
mother scream in her tower on the Rock.” She smiled knowingly at him. It was a
private joke they shared frequently. “You are right of course. Send word to
your brother. But tell him to be wary of Bolton. He may not allow Garlan to
take his fathers title so easily.” Tommen said, smiling at her wearily.
“I will send word in the morning. But first, husband, to bed.” She commanded.
Tommen obeyed.
***** Chapter 18 *****
Chapter Summary
     Winterfell receives word of King Tommen's decision and must prepare
     to pledge fealty to the new Warden of the North.
She knew something was wrong the moment she saw Myranda’s face. For Laina’s
sake, she waited until they had a moment alone before she spoke. Leaving Laina
to fold up the clean clothes, she followed Myranda from the room. “What is it?
What’s wrong?” She asked, taking in the old whores pained expression.
“There’s been a raven, from King’s Landing.” Myranda informed, knowing better
than to lie to her.
“Well, what did it say?”
“Read it yourself, Leona. I don’t have time for all of this.” Myranda thrust
the letter into her hands and shifted the basket of clean linen onto her other
hip before hurrying off down the hallway. She tore open the letter and drank in
the words. Lord Garlan Tyrell will be named warden of the North. All Northern
Lords will pledge their fealty to him. Father would not like this at all. If he
even knew what any of it meant. She carried on reading. The bottom half was
written in a different hand and Lord Garlan’s signature had been added beneath
it. I shall arrive at Winterfell first to accept an oath of fealty from Ramsay
Bolton, the Lord of Winterfell.She shivered. How could her father pledge an
oath of fealty to the new Warden of the North if he thought the old one was
still alive. He will refuse to do it, then he will attack this southerner and
our heads will be skewered onto the walls of Winterfell.Something had to be
done.
She hid the letter behind her back as she heard Laina approached. “What are you
doing?” Laina asked.
“Nothing. Go back to your clothes. I will find you later.” She reassured. Laina
bowed her head obediently and went back into her room. She returned to her
letter. Father can wait. First we must get the castle fit for the Queen’s
brother.She looked around. Old Gods, give me strength.
She was going to need it.
“I’m not sure about this.” Damon protested. She gave him a warning look. “My
Lady.” He added quickly.
“We have no other choice.” She argued. It was true, they didn’t. It had to
work. “Alyn, help me onto my horse.” She ordered. The mare was gentle enough,
but she was still nervous. The castle walls were the furthest she had ventured
in a long time and she had only ridden around the yard a few times when the men
were feeling kind. They fell in around her as they rode out of the gate. “What
if they refuse?” Skinner asked. She had thought of that already. “We don’t have
a choice and neither do they. They are Northerners. They would rather us than a
Southern Lord.” She replied, in a voice that hid her anxiety.
“Lady Leona, the people bear no love for us. Why should we them?” Sour Alyn
growled. Lady Leona. “House Bolton will not fall to ruin. My grandfather did
not work this hard for us to fall as soon as he did. And because if we do not
impress these Southern Lords, they will not treat us kindly. They won’t trust
us neither.” You sound like a commoner. She had to be better. “Where do you get
all this worldly wisdom from?” Damon spat.
“I read a book. And you should address me as My Lady.” She reminded him.
“As you say, My Lady.”He grumbled. She ignored him. They were fast approaching
winter town. Once again, she felt the butterflies take flight and hammer at the
inside of her stomach. How did you never feel fear father? I wish you could
remember. She wished it was him in her place. The people would not dare to
refuse him. A fourteen year old girl was hardly an imposing sight. As they rode
into the small town, the people peered out at them with a mixture of curiosity,
fear and hatred. “Wait here.” She ordered, continuing down the familiar dirt
road.
“My Lady, we will be more of a threat if we are together.” Sour Alyn insisted,
eyeing the faces.
“We are hardly a threatening force Alyn.” She insisted and continued riding
forward. The men remained where she had told them to, with their hands resting
on the hilts of their swords, ready for the first spark of trouble. “People of
winter town, I ask for your attention.” Do not ask, command. The asking seemed
to work though. One by one, the people filtered out to gather round her,
keeping a safe distance from both the men and from her. “I am Lady Leona
Bolton, daughter of Ramsay Bolton, Lord of Winterfell.” They did not dare to
mutter, but she could see it in their eyes. They bear no love for me, this was
a terrible idea. “I…I need your help.” She stuttered. They stared up at her,
questioningly. She even thought she glimpsed some amusement. They are enjoying
seeing me fail.“Lord Roose Bolton is dead. I have received word from King’s
Landing that they are sending another Lord to take his position as Warden of
the North.”
“And why, pray tell, was your father not chosen?” Came a gruff voice from near
the front of the crowd. She shivered. He’s still alive. “My father is…unwell.
He is not fit to assume such a position.” It wasn’t really a lie.
“It’s true then. He’s gone insane.” The same voice called.
“No!” She yelled in reply.
“If we go to Winterhell, we will never come back out.” He argued.
“That is not true! You have my word as a Bolton…” He spat at her, making her
horse shy away. She had to grab a lock of mane to prevent herself from falling.
“The word of a Bolton is worth less than my whores.” He growled.
“You will hold your tongue, or lose it.” She heard Skinner growl.
“You see? Bolton men won’t ever change. Now we have Bolton girls too.” He
grinned up at her. He’ll see, he’ll remember. “My family may have committed
many crimes. But I am not my father, nor my grandfather. We need workers.
Winterfell is in ruins and we must rebuild it before the new Warden of the
North arrives. We are all Northerners and if Winterfell is taken away from us,
it will be placed into the hands of some wet Southern Lord. Would you rather
have some stranger that doesn’t give three fucks about you?” Too common.
They’ll see. They’ll remember.
“And how many fucks does Lord Ramsay give us?” A man from the back called. The
whoremonger looked up at her expectantly, waiting for her to fail. “My Lord
father may not care, but I do. I care about my family, and my people. If you
help me, I will be forever in your debt. You will be paid for your trouble and
I can promise you protection should you need it. You have until tomorrow to
decide whether you will work for us.”
“And if we don’t?” The whoremonger growled. She met his gaze for the first
time, staring deep into the eyes that had once terrified her. “I am not my
father, nor my grandfather, but the blood of the Bolton’s runs through my veins
as much as pig shit runs through yours, whoremonger. Refuse my offer and I may
let you live to regret it.”
With that final warning, Vyda turned her back and left them.
Not Vyda, Leona. I am Leona Bolton now.
***** Chapter 19 *****
Chapter Summary
     Reek and Theon are taking care of Ramsay whilst the castle is set to
     rights. Vyda takes some time to be a child again and it seems there
     is a ghost in Winterfell.
The men were put to work outside, the women inside, though none would venture
near to Lord Ramsay’s chambers. That task fell to Reek. That was how Lord
Ramsay liked it. Reek was instructed to keep his Master away from the workers
and in his chambers where he could not be seen and could not cause trouble. In
some ways, Reek was relieved to be locked up with a madman. At least he
wouldn’t have to suffer the cruel japes of the people. His time with Master was
simple, as long as he kept him amused.
If he didn’t, it would become a lot harder.
Already he had been punished a few times. Lord Ramsay had taken to carving
words into skin. If he wasn’t pleased with his work, he’d remove the skin.
Fortunately for Reek, Ramsay was a good artist.
Most of the time his Master was good to him. Kind and not ungentle. Sometimes
he would forget things and Reek would remind him. It was better to remind him
then lie. Master could always tell when he lied. When he reminded him, his
Master would look sad and Reek would comfort him, then Ramsay would fall asleep
beside him and Theon would have time to think alone. It was better not to dwell
on the past, but his ghosts were hard to be rid of. They would not let him
sleep. There was no one there to comfort him. No one had ever been there to
comfort him.
Everybody has a story. If you keep it to yourself it dies and comes back to
haunt you.
Well, perhaps there was oneperson.
“Is all ready for their arrival?” She asked, inspecting the wool dress she
suspected was turning her legs red.
“Almost, my lady. The place should be ready in time for Lord Garlan’s arrival.”
Damon informed. Thank the Gods. “Very well. Thank you Damon. You may take the
men and go hunting. Bring us back a boar to feed our new Warden.” Leona smiled
brightly at him.
“I shall, my lady.” He bowed his head and left.
Not long after, she heard the hounds baying and horses cantering out of the
courtyard. It was a good job the women were inside the keep where the dogs
couldn’t reach them. Vyda stood up and wondered over to the window. A splinter
of wood stuck up from the window sill and she picked at it idly, watching the
workers below. When the whoremonger came into view, she dug her nails into the
crevice she had made. You threw me from my home. You left me no choice but to
come here. I’m going to make you pay for that.
She had tried to avoid him as best she could. At mealtimes, she would sometimes
glimpse him watching her. She wondered if he knew. It had been many years, and
he had seen many women, but why else would he look at her? She shuddered, but
continued watching him as he ordered the men about. Vyda didn’t even turn when
she heard the door open behind her. “Come play?” Laina asked, standing just
behind her.
“I don’t have time to…”
“Play!” Laina whined, clutching Vyda’s hand.
“Fine! But we can’t be long.” Vyda allowed her sister to lead her down the
hallway into an empty chamber where, for a time, she was a child again. They
played now you see me and tag. Then Laina picked up a ball and they played
catch for a while until they were both hot and sweaty, and Vyda’s itchy woollen
dress was forgotten.
They were taking a break when Myranda came into the room and observed the
mayhem within. “Lady Leona, you have instructed the women to clean the house,
yet here you are causing havoc. You will clean this up yourself. Laina, your
bath is almost ready for you.” She informed starkly, clearly irritated by their
childish behaviour.
“Can I stay longer? Please?” Laina begged.
“When I come back from getting fresh linen and towels, I expect you to be
ready.” Myranda gave Leona an angry glance. She always blamed her when there
was any trouble. Laina was too simple to be the cause of mayhem, and she was
always the follower anyway. As soon as Myranda had gone, Vyda set about tidying
the room. She could feel Laina’s gaze on her. “You understand what’s going on?
Don’t you Laina?” She asked, straightening out one of the fur rugs.
“You’re making our castle look pretty.” She replied, wondering around the room.
She was light footed and graceful. It was a child’s gait. “There are people
coming to see us. We must be well behaved and respectful.” Vyda informed.
“Will we get to look pretty?” Laina picked up a vase of half-dead flowers and
stared at them, wide eyed.
“Yes. We will get new gowns. But you have to understand, these people are very
important. You must be on your best behaviour.” Laina stared at her blankly.
“Do you remember when you were younger and Grandfather had you go to that
feast?”
“I got a new grey dress. And father took me to meet lots of people. They all
said I was pretty.” Laina recalled, her brow furrowing in concentration.
“Yes they did. They will call you beautiful now though. But you must not allow
any man to touch you. Not unless I give you permission.” Vyda did not like
saying it. She sounded possessive. She sounded like her father. But Laina was
beautiful, in a dark haired, pale sort of way, and she was impressionable. “I
won’t let them touch me, unless you say so. You weren’t at the last feast.”
Laina said.
“No, I wasn’t. I was…” She was cut off by a crash, then an ear-splitting
scream.
No, no, not now!
They wasted no time. Vyda was first out of the door. Cries and screams
continued to ring out, guiding their way. There was a balcony from which they
could look down on the scene below. A dozen people had gathered around already.
A body lay, face down, on the floor. She was completely motionless. Vyda didn’t
need to see her face to know who it was. Blood pooled around Myranda’s head
that had cracked open on the stone floor. The clean sheets were strewn around
her, the ones closer to her were already stained red with blood. “Fallen down
the stairs, looks like.” Vyda heard someone say. She looked over at Laina who
stared back at her. The look in her eyes spoke a thousand words.
***** Chapter 20 *****
Chapter Summary
     Lord Garlan arrives at Winterfell. Vyda must do her best to deal with
     politics. She discovers he is not as warm as he first seemed.
She smoothed down the silk dress and shivered. It was no fabric to be wearing
outside, that was for sure. She went no further than the bottom step of the
stone stairs that led up into the keep, in fear of getting it dirty. Not that
she cared. It was an ugly thing. The colours had faded slightly, but the red
and pink could still be seen. Why did my house have to have such bold and ugly
colours? They looked out of place amongst the plainly dressed servants in the
courtyard. She wished she could have worn Lady Arya’s colours instead, at least
then she’d fit in. But the time for being a ghost was done. Now, she had to be
a lady. She thought back to Lady Arya; it had been the other way around for
her.
Vyda tensed as she heard the column approaching.
She tried her best not to show it, but she was terrified. Myranda’s death had
shaken her confidence. The workers had fallen into discord not soon after and
she had had to resort to reminding them of House Bolton’s favourite punishment
in order to make them stay. That only proved to make her even less popular; she
could feel several glares on her now, but they were the least of her worries.
Her sister sensed her discomfort and moved beside her. Laina clutched her hand.
As Lord Garlan’s men appeared beneath the gatehouse, she freed herself from her
sister’s grasp as gently as she could. She didn’t want Laina to hate her too.
As Lord Garlan rode towards her, she longed to grab her sister’s hand and pull
her back again, but she dared not to. The new Warden of the North dismounted
and approached them. She bowed her head and curtsied, knowing that her sister
was doing the same behind her. “Lord Garlan, you are most welcome.” Leona said
softly, glad that she was able to hide the tremble in her voice.
“Rise up.” His voice was kind and respectful. She stood tall, but did not meet
his gaze. He will see and he will know. I am no highborn lady. I am worth less
than his horse’s shit. Vyda tried to push the thoughts from her mind. She
noticed Lord Garlan’s eyes were wondering from her. “Forgive me my Lady, but I
was expecting your father to come and greet me.” His abruptness was surprising
but welcome; she was not well practised with the hidden meanings southerners
seemed to favor.
“I beg your forgiveness, my Lord, but my father is unwell. Age has made him not
the best company. He felt it best if it were my sister and I that greeted you
when you arrived. I am Lady Leona, and this is my sister Laina.” You are no
Lady.
“Very well.” Her father’s absence clearly displeased the new Warden.
“Shall we go inside, my Lord? It is warmer and there is mulled wine and plenty
of food for both you and your men. Chambers have also been prepared.” The words
sounded rehearsed; a mummers farce.
“My men and I thank you for your hospitality, Lady Bolton.” How can you not
see? I am no Bolton, I am a Snow. He followed the mummer inside.
The Great Hall of Winterfell had not seen such a feast in a long time. Perhaps
not even since the Starks had ruled there, not that anyone said it out loud.
The food was not quite what the southerners were used to, but they were
grateful for it nonetheless. The boar had been roasted to perfection and no
cups were ever left empty.
Vyda’s cup never emptied at all.
She barely ate a thing, too nervous to do so. “You have no appetite my Lady?”
Asked Lord Garlan.
“No. I appreciate your concern, Lord Garlan.” She had to confess that she was
warming to the man. It had been a long time since she had spoken to a man so
warm. Perhaps it was due to the climate he came from. He had only grown kinder
after she knelt and accepted him as Warden of the North, in her father’s place
of course. “How are things in the South? The King is well, I trust?” She heard
herself ask.
“Yes, he is well.”
“And your sister? I hear that she is the most beautiful Queen that ever lived.”
The words sounded so ridiculous and childish that she winced.
“Don’t let the King’s mother hear you say that.” Lord Garlan smiled. Vyda
missed the joke. I should have learnt more about the South. But who was there
to ask? “My Lady, will you honour me with a dance?” For a moment, Vyda thought
it had been her that had been asked. Panic seized her, then melted away when
she realised it was her sister the man had asked. Vyda looked up at him,
judging his character. He was a handsome youth that she had already been
introduced to. One of Lord Garlan’s cousins she recalled. Laina looked at her
pleadingly. Leona nodded her consent. “We need not concern ourselves with
matters in the South. My main concern is the North.” Lord Garlan said. Vyda
looked away from her sister and back at him. “Concern, my Lord?”
“Your grandfather did a fine job at bringing the North to heal, make no mistake
my Lady. Lord Bolton was a good man.” You clearly never met him. “But your
father is something different. Forgive me my Lady, but I fear the North would
never follow him.”
“I understand my Lord.” Leona admitted, preparing herself for the words to
follow.
“Winterfell is a great stronghold. I feel Lord Bolton is not the best man to
defend it.” Lord Garlan picked up his goblet and inspected it. There was a
dent. It was old and had not been polished well. “What are you suggesting, Lord
Garlan?” She tried to keep the irritation from her voice.
“I am suggesting, Lady Leona, that you allow me to take Winterfell.” This time,
his abruptness was not a good thing.
“And where would we go?”
“Back to the Dreadfort, where the Bolton’s belong.” He drew his eyes away from
the goblet and watched her. The deep brown eyes that had been warm only moments
ago were now frozen. She could smell the ambition. “Winterfell has always been
the seat of a Stark. You would find no other Northern house more loyal to the
King than House Bolton and you seem to have forgotten who my mother was. I am
as much a Stark as I am a Bolton.” Snow. “The Northern Lord’s would not
appreciate a Southerner ruling Winterfell.” She added. Lord Garlan took a sip
of wine. “Tell me, my Lady, how old are you?” He asked, the warmth returning to
his voice.
“Four and ten, my Lord.”
“You are wise for a girl your age.” She looked away from him, not liking the
sudden change. “You are also of an age to be wed.” She felt as though she had
been slapped. The thought had never even occurred to her. When her eyes met
his, she could tell he was pleased. He was well aware that he had struck a
nerve. “It is for my father to decide who and when I shall wed.” She replied
bluntly.
“From what I have heard, your father is in no fit state to be making decision
on who and when you shall wed.” His eyes challenged her. She met them. “Then we
must wait until he is.” It was a feeble argument, but the best she could think
of. Lord Garlan smiled. “Calm yourself, Lady Leona. I am not going to sell you
off to one of my men like some horse. I am simply considering arrangements that
would benefit you and your sister, and the realm of course.” He is attempting a
different approach, he wants me to think he is putting my interests first.
“I cannot speak for the realm, but my sister and I are quite used to fending
for ourselves. We always have done.” Garlan looked questioningly at Laina, who
was focusing intently on where to put her feet. “But if our new Warden would
like to install a garrison of his choosing, he would be most welcome.” Lord
Garlan turned back to her and smiled in a way that told her he was the victor.
She smiled back. It would be such a shame if the ghost of Winterfell were to
take a disliking to this chosen garrison.Leona drank her wine.
 
***** Chapter 21 *****
Chapter Summary
     Lord Garlan leaves his Tyrell garrison, but they find there is a foe
     that will not easily be defeated. Meanwhile, Vyda is struggling to
     control Laina.
A garrison of twenty was left to keep an eye on things in Winterfell, much to
Leona’s dismay. She could sense that all of the Tyrell men were unhappy with
their new home. The keep always seemed to have an air of disquiet around it.
Vyda couldn’t remember a time when it hadn’t been there. It had been enough to
frighten off most of the workers before Roose Bolton had visited, but now there
was the added danger of the mad Lord. She had known that locking Ramsay up
wasn’t a long term solution and, eventually, the door had to be opened. Vyda
feared what would become of Theon otherwise. Lord Ramsay was free to wonder
around the castle. The Tyrell garrison soon learnt to listen out for his
footsteps and the keep seemed to be under a permanent oath of silence, always
waiting for the footfalls. What made matters worse was that bodies had been
found around the castle, many still warm. Some appeared to have been accidents,
but others…well…it was hard to find an excuse when the man had an axe sticking
out of the back of his skull. The garrison believed it was down to the Lord Who
Lost His Mind. The townspeople on the other hand recalled a time at the start
of the long winter, when bodies had been found buried beneath the snow.
Whenever a dead body was found, they took to blaming the ghost of Winterfell.
Vyda had asked Theon about it. “That was a long time ago.” Reek had replied. He
had repeatedly tried to escape the subject. Eventually they had been silenced
by the sound of the footsteps. Vyda had had to run for her life before Ramsay
saw her with his pet.
At mealtimes, Ramsay would be driven back into his chambers by the racket from
the Great Hall. Leona sat in his seat between her sister and Lord Garlan’s
cousin Derren, the handsome youth that had danced with Laina on his first night
at Winterfell. He was pleasant enough company, but she did not trust the
southerners. “I don’t see why we need him.” She had complained to Damon one day
as they watched a few of the men being trained by Derren in the yard.
“He’s alright. A bit of a sap, but that’s southerners for you.” He had jested
before wandering off. But he doesn’t see. Vyda did. She saw how Laina always
hung around him, laughing at his jokes. They danced at every dinner and Vyda
had also seen him kiss her once. It had been a brief thing, but Laina had
obviously liked it. She appeared to have found some of Myranda’s old gowns. As
Myranda had been a whore, they only covered what needed to be covered. Try as
she might, Vyda could not convince her to dress for her status, and she didn’t
have the heart to tell her sister that it was the inheritance Derren was after;
Laina was just a bonus.
Over the course of four weeks, three bodies had been found. When identified, it
appeared that it was only the townspeople. But during the fifth week, one of
the Tyrell men went missing. On the sixth week, he was found in an abandoned
bedchamber, a length of rope still around his neck. They had brought him before
Derren and herself in the Great Hall. “He was a good man. Be sure he receives a
proper burial.” Derren ordered. “My Lady, might we have a word in private?” She
knew what that meant. He thought she’d ordered the man’s death. Leona led the
way down a narrow corridor into a room with a desk that her grandfather had
worked in when he was at Winterfell. “I am sorry for your loss, Ser Derren.”
She said, pouring two goblets of wine. She didn’t drink hers. “My loss? I
barely knew the boy.” Derren smiled.
“But you said he was a good man.”
“I lied.” He continued to smirk at her.
“Of course.” Leona narrowed her eyes at him and moved to the other end of the
room, as far away from him as she could get.
“When my cousin gets word of this, he’ll be angry. You’ll need my help.” He
told her, suddenly serious. Leona was silent. She did not want to say anything
in fear that it would provoke him to say the words. He smiled at her. It was a
smile that said I have a solution. He turned away, as though to leave. Does he
think I will beg? “Don’t you touch Laina, do you hear me?” She growled. He
turned and faced her, smiling a lopsided smile. She suspected he thought it was
charming. “I haven’t touched Laina.” He admitted.
“Good. Don’t.” Vyda warned.
“It’s not Laina I want to touch.” She felt as though she had been slapped. He
moved towards her so fast she didn’t have time to move away. He touched her
cheek, cupping it with his rough hand. “Why can’t you be kind like Laina?” He
looked into her eyes. Ambitious cunt. As he leaned in to kiss, she swung her
fist around. He howled in pain and took a few steps back. When he brought his
hand away from his face, his nose was crooked and bleeding. “You broke my
nose!” He cried.
“You worried it’ll ruin your pretty face?” For a moment, she forgot who she
was.
“That wasn’t very lady like was it? But then again, you’re no lady are you?”
With an ugly smile, he wiped away the blood and left the room.
***** Chapter 22 *****
Chapter Summary
     Vyda considers her options as Derren shows more and more interest in
     Laina. Meanwhile, in the South, little birds begin to sing.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Derren appeared to be paying no heed to Vyda’s warning. If anything, he showed
more of an interest in Laina. Despite the broken nose that distorted his
features, Laina did not refuse his advances. She was pleased that he was
finally paying more attention to her. Vyda watched it all from a distance.
“He’s trouble that one.” Skinner said to her one day as she watched them from a
window.
“I know.” She replied.
“Needs to be dealt with.” He continued. Derren leaned in and kissed Laina’s
cheek for the entire yard to see. Vyda gritted her teeth. “I know.” She
growled. She knew something had to be done. She knew it was down to her to do
something. But Laina was deaf and blind to her protests to the match and, even
if she did manage to sway Laina, Derren knew her secret and he could use it
against her. He’d tell everyone that she was a bastard, then he’d claim Laina
and rule Winterfell. That cannot be allowed to happen. But how could she stop
it?
The answer came with a raven.
Vyda was sitting in what had become her usual state of tense silence beside
Derren at breakfast. He paid her no mind, choosing to focus on the girl with
the better bloodlines. The maester shuffled over to him and passed him a letter
without a word. Derren opened it and read it. He frowned. “What is it?” Laina
asked simply.
“Nothing for you to concern yourself with.” His reply was sharp and Laina
looked hurt by it. “Summon my garrison and order them to meet me in the council
chamber.” He ordered and the maester scuttled away. They aren’t yours. Derren
slumped back into his chair, clearly irritated. When Laina touched his arm and
muttered his name, he pretended not to hear her. Vyda tried her best to hide
her pleasure, but her best was not good enough. “Something funny, bastard?” He
muttered, loud enough so only they could hear.
“You seem troubled Ser Derren. Has there been another death? Is the
responsibility of Winterfell too much for you?” She smiled sweetly back. His
answer was an ugly snarl. Derren snatched his arm out of Laina’s grasp and
stalked off, cursing under his breath. “Derren is angry.” Laina observed.
“Yes. You are not to go after him, hear me?” Laina nodded and resumed eating
her breakfast. Vyda, on the other hand, made her excuses and left the room.
The screams were still going, floating up to the window like the voices of a
thousand songbirds. My little birds that sing for me. That thought made her
smile a little. Only a little though. Despite how much she’d seen of it, she
still did not take death lightly. She stared down into the darkness. The
moonlight made the trees shimmer beautifully; a silken dress hiding an ugly
woman’s pock-marked body beneath. “Come to bed wife.” She did not know he had
woken.
“In a moment.” The voice was cold but she knew he would not take it to heart.
He was most likely focusing more on her bare body than her voice. “Does my
Shewolf wish to howl to her moon?” He jested. Not your Shewolf. A wolf cannot
be tamed.Truth be told, she was wondering how many times her mother had stared
out of this window. The river runs to the south. Was she looking for me? She
did not move when she heard Harry slip out of the sheets. He wrapped his strong
arms about her and kissed her shoulder. “Come to back to bed, my Queen.” He
whispered.
Chapter End Notes
     Sorry it has been so long! I lost power then sort of fell out of the
     swing of things but, much like our Shewolf, I have returned! Only a
     short update I'm afraid but there will be more soon!
***** Chapter 23 *****
Chapter Summary
     “Careful Ser. The shadows you speak of are our ghosts. They are not
     our friends.” The warning was all in her voice, but he did not seem
     capable of listening to warnings. He continued his sticky-sweet
     smile.
She hid outside of the council chamber, listening. After years of being a
ghost, it was not hard for her to fall back into old habits. “I’ve received a
raven from my cousin, Lord Garlan. He informs me that there has been a
rebellion in the Riverlands.” The room remained silent. “The rebels have taken
Riverrun.” Derren’s voice trembled slightly, though whether it was from
excitement at the thought of fighting in a battle or from fear of fighting in
one Vyda couldn’t tell.
“What concern is that of ours? We guard the North. The Riverlands are in the
South.” Came another voice. The men muttered in agreement. “They are heading
North. The rebels are heading towards the Twins as we speak, perhaps they are
already there.”
“Surely they’ll be trapped when they reach the neck, if they even get that far.
The Twins won’t be easy to take. The King could send men in from behind.”
Another man said.
“The Riverlands are supporting the rebels. Word is they’re hanging Frey’s.”
“Again? Are there any Frey’s left to hang?” One man joked. No one laughed.
“Lord Garlan commands that we join him. Perhaps if we gather a large enough
force it will be enough to intimidate the rebels…and the northmen.” Derren
sounded as though he were reciting the words; he failed to add any power to
them.
“The northmen? Why should they rebel?”
“You’re a fool, Ser Addam, if you think they harbour any love for the Boltons
and you’d have to be simpler than those two Bolton girls to believe they’d
fight for us southerners.” Vyda let Derren’s insult wash over her. I’m cleverer
than you. “The leader of the rebellion claims to be a Stark.”
“A Stark? They’re all dead. Even these northmen know that.” Ser Addam growled.
“Which Stark?” A softer voice asked.
“The Lady Sansa. People seem to believe it too. Why else would the Riverlands
rise up against the crown if not for one of Tully blood? The North will do the
same for a Stark.” The room fell silent. Sansa Stark.Vyda knew next to nothing
about this woman. “The twins are the daughters of Arya Stark…”
“Who was most likely beaten to death by her husband. I believe some of you
refer to him as the Lord Who Lost His Mind?” The room remained in an
uncomfortable silence. “There aren’t many in the North that have even seen the
two girls. Most likely they’ve heard the rumour that they are both monsters.”
“Nevertheless, they are Starks. We should forge a strong alliance between Stark
and Tyrell.” Came the soft voice again.
“How?” She could hear the feigned confusion in Derren’s voice.
“Marriage. You should take one of the Stark girls to wife. Then we can join
Lord Garlan without fear of a Northern army attacking us from behind.” The men
waited for Derren’s response.
“I need time to consider. I shall meet you in here tomorrow gentleman, once
breakfast is done. You have my leave to go.” Vyda melted deep into the shadows
as the men swept past her. She liked the way Derren leapt three feet in the air
when she spoke. “So which sister is it to be?” She called, stepping out from
the shadows.
“The legitimate one. Though I could bed the both of you, just to be sure.” He
snapped.
“Did I frighten you, Ser?”
“The shadows move unexpectedly here. Hard to know which is caused by light and
which from darkness.” He replied, smirking.
“You got that from a book. You aren’t smart or poetic enough to come up with
such a line.” The insult only made his smile wider.
“Clever girl. Shame you aren’t the legitimate one. I’d prefer a clever wife.”
“Careful Ser. The shadows you speak of are our ghosts. They are not our
friends.” The warning was all in her voice, but he did not seem capable of
listening to warnings. He continued his sticky-sweet smile. “So you will wed my
sister?” She asked, hiding her own smile.
“Yes.” He replied flatly.
“You’ll have to ask her father first.” Derren paled and fell silent, as though
waiting to hear those ominous footsteps. Vyda smiled a cruel smile when she
spotted his fear. “Your father is a madman. We can make allowances for that.”
He growled angrily when he noticed the pleasure she took from his fear.
“That may be so, but name one maester that has examined my father and declared
him so.” Derren’s lip quivered as though she had struck him. She noted that an
ugly vein bulged from his forehead when he grew angry. “Good luck finding a
maester brave enough for that examination.” Vyda turned to leave.
“Or perhaps we will just find a way to rid ourselves of your father.” She
stopped and turned. “Are you shocked by that, Lady Snow? I’d kill him myself.
It’s not as though he’s a feeble innocent. The people of Winterfell would thank
me.” He snarled at her, relishing her anger.
“You wouldn’t fucking dare. You’re too much of a coward to kill him. You
wouldn’t get anywhere near…”
“Shall we find out?” He smiled and began to move towards her. But the shadow
moved faster. Vyda hardly saw her and Derren never saw her at all. The blade
flashed and then there was red. Derren’s eyes bulged in sudden fear and
confusion. It made him look ten years younger. He is just a boy.
That didn’t matter to Leona though. She peered at Vyda through matted hair,
breathing so heavily that Vyda could see her shoulders rising and falling. Vyda
wasn’t sure if the girl truly understood what she had just done. She did not
look as though she had enjoyed killing him, but she did not look like she was
bothered by it either.
Footsteps sounded behind them and the ghost slid back into the shadows. “Well,
well, well.” Vyda span around. “Looks like you’re doing your father proud,
bastard.” The whoremonger spat.
***** Chapter 24 *****
Chapter Summary
     Theon smells blood. To the South, a cold wind blows North.
Theon knew something was wrong the moment he entered the Great Hall. Ser Derren
wasn’t there and, perhaps more worryingly, neither was Vyda. Leona, she’s Leona
now. But he did not care about Leona. Laina was sitting on the dais looking as
lost as she had done the week after they took her sister away, all those years
ago. Her eyes lit up as soon as she saw his familiar face. He ignored the
insults and the saliva that flew at him as he hobbled down the aisle as fast as
his maimed feet could take him. “My Lady.” He gasped when he reached her, out
of breath from the effort of moving so fast. I’m getting old, how is that
possible?“My sister is gone.” Laina said, biting back tears.
“I’m sure she hasn’t gone. She is probably just late. Shall I look for her?”
The girl looked so lost and alone that he did not wish to leave her. But he
feared what had become of Vyda. He had seen the looks Derren gave her. Had he
been who he once was, he would have given those same looks. As soon as Laina
gave him leave to go and find her sister, he left the room, ignoring the pain
in his missing toes.

He knew the smell of blood better than anyone he knew, apart from Ramsay
perhaps. It filled his nostrils, mingling with death and fear. Whether it was
his own fear or someone else’s, he could not tell.
It was soon clear that it wasn’t just himself that was afraid.
Vyda was sitting in the corner nearest to the whoremonger’s body. Her thin,
pale arms were wrapped around her legs, clasping them as tightly to her body as
she could. She didn’t seem to notice him. Her eyes were instead focused on the
pool of blood that was inching its way towards her. The whoremongers head had
been smashed in, the brick that caused his death had clattered to silence
nearby. Derren’s body was near the back of the room, his throat a gaping red
hole that looked like a second mouth. No words came out. Only a silent plea.
Theon could hear Vyda singing to herself softly. Reek wanted to turn and run
back to his Master’s chambers. Theon knew that she needed him. It’s too
dangerous, you tried to help another girl beforea small voice cried. It wasn’t
hard to block out though. “Vyda?” Theon called. The girl wiped away at the eyes
that were her greatest curse; were it not for them, she would never have come
here. She would have been safe. On closer inspection, he saw that her face and
hands were spattered with blood. She looked at him, then at the bodies. “I…I
didn’t mean to…b…but he knew!” She cried. Theon moved around the pool of blood
and knelt down beside her. “It’s ok. It will be ok.” He lied. For a moment, she
looked as though she would fling herself at him and cry into his shoulder. She
steeled herself just in time. “Why did you kill them Vyda?” He asked. Her eyes
widened. Once again she looked at the bodies. It was as though she were seeing
them for the first time. “Derren…I…I wouldn’t! I didn’t! It wasn’t me!” She
wailed. It all came out in a babble, but Theon was used to incoherent babbling.
It was how Reek would speak to Master if he was frightened. It was how Master
spoke to Reek whenever he was panicked or confused about something. He
understood everything; how Leona had stepped out from the shadows and made
Derren’s throat smile its bloody smile. How the whoremonger had taunted Vyda,
threatened to make her confess the crime she didn’t commit or, worse still,
drag her back to the whorehouse to work where she belonged. “He cornered me
against the wall. I felt the lose brick and swung it at him. I…I never meant
to…” This time she did not manage to steel herself. Vyda flung herself at him.
Theon did his best not to topple over. Why is this world so cruel to its
children? He thought as she wept and shuddered into his shoulder.
“The Twins are yours, my queen.” Harry informed, smiling, his face flecked with
blood and mud. It had been harder than she’d anticipated, what with the Frey’s
still at each other’s throats. Lord Walder Frey had died many years ago now,
sadly, but his spawn still squabbled over his remains like relentless carrion
crows. Let the real crows squabble over their remains. One by one, Sansa dished
out her punishments to each and every Frey that still breathed. Most were hung,
the women and younger children she spared. All the boys were taken as hostages.
When an elderly Raymund Frey was dragged before her she showed no mercy. “Slit
his throat to the bone and throw his body in the river.” She commanded. Her men
did as she asked without question. Let the trout’s feast on his body. “Will we
stay here a while, my Queen? The men could do with a rest.” Gyles Grafton
advised as night fell and the last Frey stopped swinging on his rope.
“A week they shall have, no more. We must move fast. No doubt the Warden of the
North has heard of our coming.” She took a sip of wine and moved over to the
window that faced North.
“Would it not be best to wait a little longer, your Grace? The men could do
with refreshing themselves before we march on Moat Cailin.
“A week.” She repeated firmly. Beyond Moat Cailin lay the North and in the
heart of the North lay Winterfell. Home. The word sounded faint and unfamiliar
to her. Between here and home awaited the Tyrell army, no doubt the Bolton’s
were there too. When winter comes for them, the roses will wither and die and
the flayed men are already dead or dying. “Get some rest, Ser Gyles.” She
ordered. “Winter is coming.”
***** Chapter 25 *****
Chapter Summary
     The Bolton household can breathe a sigh of relief with the Tyrell
     host leaving to defend the North. But Vyda struggles to look at the
     positives, especially when a chance meeting reminds her that she is
     never far from danger.
They blamed it on the whoremonger. Unfortunately the roofing that had collapsed
onto his head left him unable to produce an alibi. Lady Leona had seen him
heading towards the council chamber on her way to breakfast. Then she had heard
their raised voices and fled in fear; she was only a young girl after all.
Yet Vyda could tell that some didn’t believe this tale. She heard them whisper.
It was the ghost, it was the Lord Who Lost His Mind, it was the daughter, he
refused her for her sister, she refused him but he insisted.
So many tales.
No one seemed too concerned about the whoremonger though. As the weeks passed
and ravens came and went, the death of Ser Derren became a distant memory. Lady
Stark’s forces had reached the Neck, and word was that the Crannogmen were
assisting her with taking Moat Cailin. The Tyrell host at Winterfell were
readying themselves to depart, raiding the stores for provisions and training
any man from winter town fit enough to fight. For Vyda, Theon and Ramsay’s
boys, the Tyrell garrison couldn’t leave quick enough. Laina, on the other
hand, was in a state of misery and spent most of her time sulking. “We
shouldn’t let them leave.” She grumbled to Vyda as they watched the men file
out of the courtyard from a window in one of the corridors. “They shouldn’t
leave without Derren.” It was the third time she’d said it that day alone. Vyda
hadn’t had the heart to tell her the truth. If Laina knew it had been Leona,
Vyda feared what she might do. She told Laina that Derren had run away with
some serving wench and that he wouldn’t be coming back. Laina had been so
distraught that she’d locked herself in her room. By the time she’d emerged,
Derren’s death had been forgotten and Laina had begun to hate him for leaving
her. But what the simpleton had believed to be love never truly left her and
she had grown convinced that Derren would return to her and beg her
forgiveness.
“Derren’s gone Laina. He left you and he’s never coming back. Never. He doesn’t
love you and he never did!” Vyda snapped. Laina’s eyes widened with shock. Vyda
had never snapped at her before. “I’m sorry Laina. I didn’t mean…” Laina walked
off before she could finish her apology. Vyda turned back to the window.
She had no idea how long she had stood there for. So engrossed was she in
watching the men as they disappeared over the rolling Northern hills, she
didn’t even notice the footsteps until they were right behind her and it was
too late to run. She held her breath when he stopped behind her; so close she
could feel his breath stir her hair. “I should get ready. I should have been
leading the vanguard. We can’t trust that fat cunt Manderly. I’m going to be
the one to find Stannis. When I do, I’ll flay him alive. Then I’ll find my Reek
and my wife and make sure that they never try to run away again.” He growled
into her ear. Vyda did not move. Not even a tremble. She stared at their
reflection in the glass and realised this was the closest she’d been to him for
many years. His reflection watched hers but there was no realisation there and
for a moment she felt more alone and abandoned then she had ever done before.
Her father stood right behind her but he did not know it. He did not know he
was her father. He didn’t even know her name.
His hand crept up her back and around her neck. She didn’t move. She continued
to stare at him in the mirror. He stared back. Their reflections were as pale
and lifeless as the shade of a ghost and for a moment that was what they were.
She hated it.
I don’t want to be a ghost anymore.
She wanted to wrench free of his icy grasp. She wanted to hit him and shout and
scream and tell him what her name was and who she was. Then she wanted him to
strike her back and tell her she had been disobedient.
Then, once the fight had fled from them both, she wanted to collapse into his
arms and weep. She wanted him to apologise and hold and stroke her hair and
kiss her cheek and tell her she was pretty and that he loved her the way she’d
seen other fathers do in winter town.
As her moment of madness subsided, Vyda released a long sigh, as though to
release the stupid longing that had wormed its way into her foolish mind. She
could feel her father tense at her movement, but he was too fixed on her
reflection to do anything. She resumed her staring. If this was the closest
she’d ever get to her father then she was going to learn what he looked like.
Her first thought was how old he looked. His face was creased, as though
someone had tried to draw in an angry frown but hadn’t got it quite right.
Instead it looked sad, as though he was tired of anger. His hair was more grey
then dark brown now. Vyda couldn’t recall how old her father must be now, but
she was sure he shouldn’t look this haggard. Perhaps he should be leeched.
Would you like that grandfather?The thought made her smile. It died when
Ramsay’s hand began to tighten. She could feel his grip tickling her windpipe.
His reflection had morphed into an angry beast. He glared at her as her eyes
widened. “I want my Reek. Send them to me, bastard, and I will not trouble you
or your black crows. Keep them from me, and I will cut out your bastard’s heart
and eat it.” He spoke the words aloud but they were not being said to her. Vyda
began to panic as Ramsay forgot his strength and the fact that he was holding a
person, not a quill. “M…master?” A small voice quivered down the hallway.
Ramsay’s hand fell away instantly and Vyda gulped down air.
Ramsay’s head snapped round, his eyes blazed when he spotted Reek. Vyda was
still filling her lungs when her father charged towards his pet. Reek’s whimper
was barely audible over the thunder of Ramsay’s footsteps. As Reek was knocked
to the floor and dragged towards an empty chamber, Vyda fled from the corridor,
ignoring Reek’s yelps of pain and Ramsay’s roars of anger.
It was Theon she cared for, not Reek.


 
***** Chapter 26 *****
Chapter Summary
     Queen Sansa makes a hard decision. Vyda begins to worry when Theon
     doesn't show up to dinner.
She stood on the edge of the hill, looking Northwards. The tears froze on her
cheeks as the wind bit at her face, driving her back the way she had come. “My
Queen, it is Winterfell you need, not Riverrun. You must not turn back now.”
Harrold urged her.
“You are wrong. Riverrun was my mother’s home. It is as much mine as Winterfell
is.” She argued, grateful for the darkness that hid how hard she found this
decision.
“Of course it is, but Winterfell…”
“Can wait. Do you know what happened when my brother did not return to
Winterfell after Theon Greyjoy sacked it? He lost it. We lost everything. My
brothers went missing, my mother believed them to be dead, and now they are. My
home burned to the ground. I will not let Riverrun fall to the same fate.” She
insisted.
“Very well.” Harrold admitted defeat, recognising the iron determination in her
voice.
“You will remain here with the Lords of the Vale and their foot soldiers. I
will take the rest with me to Riverrun.”
“You? My Lady, you can’t. Let me go in your place.” Harry begged.
“Do you think I can’t lead an army, my Lord?” She snapped. He knew better than
to argue. “I will return to you husband, I swear it. Then we shall take my home
back.” She vowed. Turning to Ser Gyles, she ordered him to ready the men.
Now that the Tyrell garrison had gone, the numbers had diminished greatly. The
people from winter town had fled back to the safety of their homes and only
Ramsay’s men, Theon and the twins remained. Vyda breathed a sigh of relief when
she entered the nearly empty Great Hall. She almost looked around in search for
Myranda, then remembered how much time had passed since the wench’s death and
felt foolish. Things wouldn’t be the same as they had, but she was eager to
make it as close as she could get. Vyda sat beside Laina and began to eat. Then
she noticed there was no Theon. “Has anyone seen Reek?” She asked. They all
stared down in silence at her plates. “We heard him, m’lady. Nothing since
then.” Skinner replied. Her blood turned to ice, freezing where it ran through
her veins. She had not thought to check on him. She had not thought about him
at all. Without a word, Vyda stood up from her place at the bench and began to
leave the Hall. “Lady Leona!” She heard Damon call. “Leona! Don’t!” She heard
him get up and come after her. She broke into a run.
He didn’t catch her until she was halfway down the corridor she’d stood in
earlier that day. “Stop.” Damon growled, out of breath slightly. He clasped her
arm tightly. “Let go of me! Get off!” She screamed, clawing at him desperately.

“You cannot go to him, do you understand?” Damon hissed.
“I have to! If he’s hurt Theon…” Damon slammed her up against the wall so hard
she could taste blood in her mouth.
“Never call him that. Ever.” She could her desperation in Damon’s voice.
“I have to make sure he’s alright. Please?” She squeaked. He released her and
followed her down the hall towards the chamber Theon and Ramsay had disappeared
into earlier.
“Let me go in first.” Damon said, pushing her behind him.
Theon could feel himself bleeding. The blood soaked the sheets around him. He
couldn’t recall getting on the bed, so he assumed Ramsay had thrown him there
once he was done with him. The voice told him otherwise, but that voice lied.
“I…I didn’t mean to!” It gasped from the far corner of the room. “I never meant
to…I just wanted to…to hurt him a little.” Ramsay wailed. Theon wanted to
shuffle away and hide when he heard footsteps approaching the bed. He managed
to open the eye that wasn’t swollen shut. For a moment, he thought he was
seeing ghosts. “Jeyne?” He gasped.
“Theon. It’s me, Vyda.” The girl whispered. Theon’s heart jumped back to life
suddenly, then it began to dull again. “Vyda.” He whispered.
“Come on m’lord, we’ll go get the Maester.” He heard Damon say.
“Yes…yes, the Maester, of course.” Ramsay muttered, repeating the words until
they were an incoherent mutter. Theon felt Vyda slide her fingers through his
remaining ones. “You can’t die!” She cried. “I need you!” Was he dying? He
wasn’t sure but he didn’t feel like it was the right moment to ask. Not now.
Not yet. “Vyda, do you remember…when you were younger…do you remember what you
said? About everyone having a story?” He croaked.
“Yes.” She replied after a moment of thought.
“Well…I want to tell you mine.” He smiled.
***** Chapter 27 *****
Chapter Summary
     Ghosts rule Winterfell, drawing Leona out of the shadows. Trouble is
     inevitable.
Theon held on for two more days. When he took his final breath, Lord Ramsay was
inconsolable. They locked him in his chambers, fearing that he might break out
into an uncontrollable rage. But there was nothing but endless sobbing. The
meals they left outside for Ramsay remained untouched. Eventually they unlocked
the door and allowed him to wander through the castle. He kept to the same
route, following the footsteps he had made in the dust. He bothered no one; in
fact, he didn’t even seem to notice them. He became a ghost that haunted the
castle, sometimes releasing mournful moans when night time fell. Vyda fell
asleep at night listening to his cries. Whenever she heard him, a part of
Theon’s story would stir in her mind. You could hear her crying, she never
stopped. That angered him more. She cried for the childhood she had lost, the
hero that had failed her and the daughters she never knew.  If she listened
really carefully, she could tell that they weren’t moans at all. He was saying
the name. Reek. Reek. Reek.It reminded Vyda of when Leona and Laina had been
split up. Laina had muttered her sisters’ name over and over again until it
became some sort of chant. Is this normal when you lose your other half? Reek
hadn’t been Ramsay’s twin, but everyone needed someone to walk through life
with. Laina had Leona, or had had Leona. Ramsay had had Reek. I have no one. We
are all lonely ghosts here now; wandering the halls, going about our unfinished
business. Completely alone.
It was a saddening thought, but that was the way it was. And it was easier that
way.
So Vyda was shocked one day when she heard two people talking. Even at
mealtimes, Winterfell’s remaining inhabitants barely spoke to one another
unless there was something that needed doing or some news from the South. That
was a rare occurrence. What was more surprising about these two voices was that
they were both female. The only females still in Winterfell were herself, Laina
and…
Vyda sprinted towards the voices. When she listened closer, she realised that
they weren’t speaking the common tongue. They were speaking twin.
Neither girl looked up when she entered the room. It was a long time since she
had seen Leona properly. When she had killed Derren she had been half hidden in
shadow. Vyda was shocked at how much older she looked compared to Laina. The
childish innocence in Laina’s face was not shared by her twin. Leona was thin
too. So thin, in fact, that had she been married off like their grandsire had
intended she would have most likely been broken in childbirth. There was no
chance of her being married off now though. Her face was that of a killer’s;
gaunt and bitter and cruel, and her clothes were tattered and torn, her skin
marked with mud and blood. Vyda couldn’t tell whether it was her blood or her
victim’s.
The twins were deep in discussion, though it seemed that the majority of the
conversation was led by Leona. Vyda wanted to know what they were saying. Even
when they were younger and Laina hadn’t known a word of common tongue, she had
never been taught twin. The fact that Laina still remembered it worried her.
She was about to interrupt them when she heard footsteps shuffling past the
door.
They all turned and watched as their father walked by, seemingly oblivious to
their presence, muttering the only word he seemed to know. Reek. Reek. Reek.
When his voice had receded, Vyda turned back to the twins. Leona stared back.
She smiled. Taking Laina’s hand, Leona led her sister from the room, leaving
Vyda alone in the cold and empty room.
Footsteps were what woke her. They were light ones, soft as a night-time
breeze. Vyda had already figured out that they weren’t Ramsay’s. Perhaps Laina
was having trouble sleeping. It was not uncommon for her sister to climb into
bed with her after a nightmare. Her cold feet always made Vyda start to shiver.
Tonight, she would have given anything to feel those cold feet beside her own,
especially when the footsteps stopped.
Vyda waited under the fur covers, praying that they would carry on past her
room, whoever they were. Childhood memories came flooding back of when she and
Laina would build dens beneath the covers and she would tell her sister
stories. She liked telling stories. Vyda especially liked it when she told a
scary story and her sister would tremble with fear and she would hold her until
she fell asleep. Tonight, however, it was her turn to be afraid. It was
probably just the wind. Or a ghost.The ghosts in Winterfell were the least of
her fears. Timidly, she peered over the top of her covers. The ghost stared at
her, she could just about see its eyes through the mass of hair. Vyda’s breath
caught in her throat and tears stung her eyes. “Theon?” She called quietly.
Before she could say anything else, he melted back into the shadows. Vyda
smiled. I am not alone she thought, smiling. With an unusual sense of warmth
settled deep in her heart, she drifted back to sleep, her smile still on her
lips.
He could hear the footsteps. They drove him forward as though every light step
were a sharp kick in the ribs, urging him forward. It felt strange. The silence
settled in him and his mouth throbbed when he ceased saying the word. He didn’t
need to now. The footsteps said it all for him. Reek. Reek. Reek.He had to move
faster. He couldn’t lose him again. As he rounded a corner, he glimpsed the
pale shift he let his pet wear. He moved faster. As fast as he could. Another
corner. Another glimpse. Reek. Reek. Reek.Faster. Faster. He had to move
faster.Forgotten instincts kicked in once again. He couldn’t just glimpse his
prey, he could hear its ragged breath, he could smell it; blood and dirt mixed
into a stench that would send most men reeling. It sent him into a frenzy. He
took a deep breath, drinking it in. He was close now.
He found him in the next room he came across.
When was the last time he had seen him? How long had his Reek been gone? He
could not recall, but he felt no anger. Only relief that he had found him once
more. Reek did not kneel when he saw him, but he would let that go. He had come
back to his master and that was all that mattered. “Reek.” He choked on a sob.
“My Reek.” He hurried towards him. He wanted to look into those wide, pleading
eyes and see the adoration and fear in them. He wanted to look into those sea
blue eyes…
They were ghost grey. Like two chips of dirty ice. There was no adoration.
There was no fear. Only mocking laughter. He stared at the eyes in shock.
“You…you aren’t Reek?” He gasped, his voice sounding small. She laughed again.
“You aren’t Reek.” His voice was stronger this time. “Reek. Reek. You aren’t my
Reek.” She laughedat him. She laughed at his words, at his voice, at his face.
Reek. Reek. Reek. He muttered the name with each blow he dealt her. He did not
see her blood. He did not see her wild rage. Reek. Reek. REEK.
“No…please, stop…mercy!” The cry rang out, familiar yet distant, from across
the other side of the room. It made him stop. He looked up, fearing another
trick. But it wasn’t. She stood staring at him fearfully, hugging herself.
“Please…” She whispered. He lowered his fist. He grinned and let the mocking
creature crumple to the floor. He had already forgotten her. “Well wife, how
kind of you to come back to me.” He growled. He flew towards her. Before she
could say another word, he had picked her up and was carrying her back to their
chambers. “You still need to give me a son.” He said, grim faced. This time, he
was determined to fulfil his duty.
***** Chapter 28 *****
Chapter Summary
     Vyda learns of the nights events. Sort of.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Vyda ran from room to room, screaming her sister’s name. Her sister screamed
back, begging Vyda to save her, but the emptiness of the keep made it hard to
tell where it was coming from. So she ran; searching every room, tearing down
tapestries and shoving aside furniture. She found no one. The screaming
continued. It pulled her towards the darkest part of the castle. “I don’t want
to go in there!” She tried to say, but the words caught in her throat. Clinging
to what remained of her courage, she stepped through the door into her father’s
tower. Ghosts appeared from the shadows. So many. She could see Theon and
Myranda. Ben Bones was there too. Derren, the whoremonger, a girl with a face
so sad and pitiful it made her want to weep. She couldn’t though. I must find
Laina. She passed by the sad child. “Mercy…please…save me!” She cried out after
her. Her name was Jeyne, it rhymed with pain.Vyda continued down the corridor,
never looking back. More ghosts appeared as she neared her father’s chambers.
These ones she didn’t recognise, yet somehow she knew who they were. One man
had no head. It scared her, the way she could see where his head had once been.
My real father lost his head at Kings Landing. The woman next to him was even
more terrifying. Her hair was white and brittle. Scratch marks ran down beneath
her eyes like thick red tears. Her throat had been sliced open so deep Vyda
could see the bone beneath. Her eyes were what scared her the most though. They
saw her and they hated. Lady Catelyn hated me from the moment Lord Stark
brought me home with him.Lady Stark held her hand over the gaping hole in her
throat and croaked out a word. Vyda couldn’t understand what she said. She
wasn’t sure she wanted to. She began to walk faster, but the corridor seemed to
stretch out forever. She came across a man with a wolfs head instead of his
own, its red tongue hung limply over sharp yellow teeth, howling silently. I
should have been with him. Where was I? I should have died with him. The wolf-
man watched her as she hurried on. Past the two flayed boys. It wasn’t me! I
didn’t do it!Theon’s voice screamed at the sight of them. Next came another
man. He looked miserable as the flames licked at his face, peeling away the
skin. He stood next to a younger boy, he had been flayed too. Ramsay, he made
me do it, he had laughed and said “Reek killed the boy before, Reek can kill
him now too”.She could feel all their eyes on her, but finally there were no
more ghosts. Up ahead, she spotted a window. It wasn’t the door she had hoped
for, but it was something. As soon as she reached it, she clutched the
windowsill and breathed in the clean air. She dared not look round to see where
the ghosts were. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Just as she was about to
carry on, a raven landed on the windowsill. She stared at it. There was
something about the way it looked at her; as though he knew everything she had
done and everything she would do. It squawked. “Hello there.” She said, trying
to make it sound light hearted. Tentatively, she reached out to caress its
black feathers. “Ouch!” She yelped when it bit into her flesh, drawing blood.
“What did you do that for?” She cried. It squawked in reply. More squawks
answered and more ravens appeared. They flew in through the window and pecked
at her flesh. She could feel them trying to take out her eyes. Above the
flapping of wings she could hear screaming, though she couldn’t tell if it was
Laina’s or her own. She tried to beat the ravens off her but there were so
many. She could feel herself being pushed back beneath their weight. At some
point she lost her balance. Vyda could feel herself falling and expected to
crash into the wall at any moment. Instead, she felt a door swing open behind
her. “Vyda!” She heard Laina scream. Blood poured out of the room. The ravens
pinned her down as it washed over her. The blood smelled foul, vile, tainted.
“Vyda!” Laina screamed again. The ravens took up the cry as she tried to fight
them off her. “Vyda! Vyda! Snow…Snow…Snow!”
When she opened her eyes, the ravens were still attacking, shaking her awake
with their claws. It took her a moment to realise that they weren’t claws, but
fingers and hands. “Leona, it’s alright, it’s me…it’s me, it’s Damon!” Vyda
stared at him, her dream still haunting her.
“Damon?” She gasped. He nodded, then looked away. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
She asked, worried now. In her dream, Laina had been in Ramsay’s chambers. But
why would she be there? “Tell me!” She cried, clasping his arm.
“It’s time you got up.” He said gruffly, tearing away from her and hurrying
from the room. She listened as his footsteps faded away, leaving her in
silence. The silence was the most unsettling part. Normally she’d be able to
hear footsteps, and the soft Reek, Reek, Reek. But there was nothing. Not even
a whimper. Vyda climbed out of bed and over to the window where the world was
still. Peaceful. A thick mist blanketed the green hills, the fir trees dark
spears thrusting through it. All she could think of was how much she hated it.
Mist concealed. Mist hid. She was sick of things being hidden. Laina turned
away from the sight and fled from the room, not bothering to dress. The floor
was cold, but she barely felt it as she hurried down the halls. She found no
one, just like in her dream. “Laina?” She called. No one replied. “Leona?” Her
voice was a whisper. Still the ghost did not appear. Vyda stood a little
straighter and headed towards her father’s part of the castle. “I am not
afraid. It was just a dream. A stupid dream of a stupid child.” She wasn’t a
child. She wasn’t sure if she had ever been one. The only time she had really
felt like one was with Theon, and now he was gone and she was all alone. “I’m
not afraid. I’m not. I’m not.” She insisted, yet she could not stop the tremor
in her hands. Vyda found that the door to his tower was open and she did not
allow herself to hesitate. There were no ghosts, but she could hear voices,
well, one voice. A low whisper coming from the door opposite the window. Vyda
saw no ravens this time, but she did not think to stop and check. As she
stretched out her hand to open the door, another grabbed her wrist. Her
attacker twisted her arm, causing her to cry out. He clapped a hand over her
mouth to muffle the sound. “No screaming. We don’t want your father to hear
now, do we?” Skinner growled softly before beginning to drag her away down the
corridor.
Chapter End Notes
     Apologies for not updating for a while. The real world interrupted,
     the bastard!
***** Chapter 29 *****
Chapter Summary
     Sansa has dinner with an old acquaintance. Vyda is tormented but the
     interrogation is soon to turn sour.
The youth she had once known and fancied was gone, replaced by a handsome man
slightly haggard by years of fighting. “I trust the food is to your liking Ser
Loras? I am sure the food is of a better quality in the capital, as it comes
from the Reach.” She asked softly.
“Indeed it is, Lady Sansa.” Loras replied, smiling a little. She did not
attempt to correct him. His sister was his Queen and he was not from around
here. “It is good to see you again, my Lady. Such a shame it was not under
better circumstances.”
“Agreed. Though I fear if I were to let my presence be known in any other way
my head would be placed on a spike just like my father’s. Let us not tell lies
Ser Loras. This isn’t Kings Landing.” Her smile never faltered.
“Queen Margaery was very fond of you Lady Sansa. Her wish to take care of you
was never a lie. Perhaps if you were to disregard this claim to the North and
the Riverlands, you would be forgiven for your crimes against the crown.” Loras
said the words dutifully but he could see from the look in her cold blue eyes
that her determination was frozen solid and was as likely to melt as The Wall
was.
“And what crimes might those be, Ser Loras?”
“Regicide. The murder of King Joffrey.” He tried not to let his voice falter.
“And what a King he was.” She laughed. “I did not kill King Joffrey, I just
carried the weapon.” She laughed again at the sight of his confusion. “I
thought the Tyrell’s would share all their secrets with one another.” Sansa
sighed.
“What are you suggesting, my Lady?” Loras frowned.
“I’m not suggesting anything. Simply telling you the truth. After King Joffrey
was poisoned, Dontos Hollard led me to a boat and rowed me to safety. It turned
out that safety was Petyr Baelish. He killed Ser Dontos, then told me about the
poison in my hairnet. He said he did it for a new ally. Nothing like a
thoughtful gift to make a new friendship grow strong. Tell me Ser Loras, what
are the Tyrell words?”
“Growing Strong.” His voice was barely a whisper.
“And so you all have.” Sansa raised her glass slightly, smiling. “As you were
saying, your sister the Queen was very fond of me. She loves you also. I heard
she was overcome with grief when she heard you were dying at Dragonstone.
She’ll be devastated to learn of your capture by my army of rebels.” Ser Loras
paled. Sansa reached over and held his hand gently, her smile showed genuine
kindness. “Fear not Loras. You and your sister were kind to me when I was
captive and so I shall make sure you receive the best of care. Your sister will
give me the North and the Riverlands in exchange for your release and if the
King ever attempts to wage war or harm my people again, I will make sure that
the crown hears of the crimes your house has committed.” The icy edge had
returned to her voice. She raised her goblet again. “To regicide.”
Vyda cowered away from them. Somewhere in the castle, she could hear Laina
screaming. That was a form of torture in itself. She raised her bloody hand to
her ears and covered them but the light from their torches was so bright it
hurt her eyes. It was hear her sister screaming or be blinded. The flames were
so close she could’ve sworn her face was burning; beads of sweat trickled down
her temple. Vyda could smell burning hair and it took her a moment to realise
it was her own. A few moments later, she was startled when an icy wave hit her.
Vyda turned her head to try and catch some of the water in her mouth. “What did
you do that for?” Someone yelled.
“To stop her from burning to death!” Another growled. “How do you expect to get
answers from a corpse?”
“It’s how we do things. How we’ve always done things. Or have you grown soft in
your old age Damon?”
“Have you tried asking her questions yet? Did you try before you began
tormenting her?” Silence was the only answer. “She’s a good child and Lord
Ramsay’s daughter. She deserves better than this.” Vyda listened to his
footsteps. Her heart sank when the one man on her side left the room. “Get her
up and give her some water.” Skinner ordered, though Vyda barely heard it. They
dragged her up into a sitting position before handing her a cup of water. The
fire had dried out her throat and she gulped it down greedily. It was gone too
soon. “More…please…” She gasped.
“You will have more, once you’ve answered our questions.” Luton promised. She
peered up at them. In the gloom of the dark chamber they were in, they did not
look like them men she had grown up knowing, men she had trusted. They looked
like monsters; looming over her and making her feel so small and insignificant.
“You can’t do this. I am Lord Ramsay’s daughter!” She tried to sound brave and
powerful. Instead, she sounded like a little mouse, squeaking in terror.
“Lord Ramsay understands the importance of obedience training. The fact that he
is your father didn’t seem to stop you from angering him last night.” Skinner
growled.
“Last night? I didn’t do anything last night!” She cried.
“Disobedience is one thing, but lying? Do you know what the punishment for that
was? Did Reek never tell you?” Sour Alyn hissed.
“Please! I swear, I’m not lying! Please!” She screamed in sudden realisation of
what they would do.
“Don’t deny it, Dick saw you! You and your sister dressed up as Lady Arya and
Reek and confused Ramsay. When he caught your sister, he carried her off and
you did nothing to stop him. I assume it was your idea, as your sister is too
simple to think it up herself.” Skinner looked down at her in disgust. At
first, the men thought the girl had begun to sob, it took them a moment to
realise that it was not sobbing, but laughter. The laughter began to grow in
volume, echoing off of the walls. When she looked up at them, tears of laughter
glimmered in the dim light. Vyda tried to speak but found that words would not
come. Her stomach hurt and she doubled over, clutching it tightly. The laughter
sounded maniacal now. “Someone shut her up, she’s gone mad!” She heard someone
yell but it only spurred more laughter. A sharp kick in the ribs brought her
back to her senses. “It wasn’t me.” She gasped, struggling to hold back her
hysteria.
“Oh really? Who was it then?” Yellow Dick asked. She didn’t see their confused
expressions. In a tiny voice, she whispered “Her.”
***** Chapter 30 *****
Chapter Summary
     Vyda makes a decision but the tables soon turn when Damon tells her
     some news.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Vyda wasn’t sure what scared her the most; Laina’s screams, the men’s confused
cries or her own maniacal laughter. She couldn’t stop. Not even when the blood
closed in on her bare feet and painted her toes red. In the darkness, she could
hear their agonized cries and dying whispers. Through her tears, she saw Leona
vanish back into the darkness. “Who?” Skinner gasped, his eyes glowing in the
dim light.
“A ghost.” Vyda muttered, standing up. She left the bodies where they lay and
left the room, not checking to see if any would survive. She wanted them all
dead anyway. If it was just me, me and Laina. I could do it, I could kill the
others and then we’d be free and we’d be safe. It would require her to kill
more people, but what did that matter? The only people she had ever truly cared
for was her mother, Theon and Laina. Her mother had died a long time ago, Theon
was dead too and Laina was the only person she wanted to save.
Driven on by the thought of being free from it all, she stumbled down into the
kitchens and picked up a knife. How easy it must be. One quick thrust into
someone’s chest and it is done. She was quick. Damon was old and slow. Ramsay
would be harder. He may be mad but he was big and strong. I am strong too Vyda
assured herself. She left the kitchen, finding that she had to clutch the walls
for support. She was aware that her body hurt but had pushed it to the deepest
corners of her mind. Vyda did not think about where she was headed, only that
she wanted to find Damon before she went to Ramsay’s chambers to rescue her
sister. Her feet led her towards the Great Hall. It did not stop her when she
found it empty. It didn’t feel empty to her. She could have sworn she heard
voices all around her. Someone called out her name and she spun around, slicing
at nothing. Had she imagined it or was Laina calling for her? Once Vyda was
sure there was no one behind her, she turned around again and headed towards
the council chamber. There Damon sat, his head in his hands, running his
fingers through his grey hair.
He looked up when he heard her light footsteps. Over the years, he had learnt
to fear any form of footsteps he heard in Winterfell. If anyone was approaching
you, it was never good news. “Seven hells.” He breathed. The hem of her dress
was spattered with blood, the red was a stark contrast to the pure white of the
linen shift. “What have you done?” He whispered. He was tired of this. All of
it. The Boltons and their insanity. Endless killing. The place stank of death.
He used to enjoy it, but now it all seemed the same. Boring. “I didn’t do
anything.” The girl growled. She stalked into the room. Damon spotted the knife
in her hand before she had even held it out. “Gods give me strength.” He
muttered, leaning back casually in the chair. “And what exactly do you plan on
doing with that?” He asked.
“Killing you, then my father.” Leona hissed.
“Why?” Damon was slightly amused.
“So we can be free.” The knife did not tremble in the slightest. She has
inherited the steady hand of her father. “I suppose by we you mean yourself and
Laina? Go. I’m not going to stand in your way.” It was true. He wanted to be
rid of her and her sister almost as much as she wanted to be rid of him.
Strangely though, he couldn’t find it in himself to do them the favour of
killing them. “I take it you killed the others?”
“No.”
“They’re still alive then?”
“Not for much longer.” Her voice was steady. Sure. Now that was confusing. “The
Gods frown on kinslaying child. You might want to think twice before killing
your father.”
“The Gods? The Gods turned their backs on this mess a long time ago. And my
father is no stranger to kinslaying. First his brother, then Lady Walda’s
children. If he hadn’t been mad I’d accuse him of killing his own father!” The
girl’s voice grew louder, shriller. Her years of holding onto control slipped
away with every word. “How do you know all this?” Damon wasn’t sure how much
was true. He had heard rumours, but that was all. “Does it matter? This whole
family is cursed. Hated by everyone. And now that there is no one left it has
turned on itself.” As if on cue, her sister began to scream. “I have to make it
stop.” Leona’s voice was barely a whisper.
“Don’t kill him.” Damon said, his voice steady.
“I have to…”
“It’s too late.” He assured her.
“What do you mean?” The knife in her hand began to tremble slightly. Her brows
knitted together in confusion. Damon picked up the dirk that rested on the
table in front of him. “He’s already dead.”
Chapter End Notes
     Dun dun DUNNN!
***** Chapter 31 *****
Chapter Summary
     Vyda finds a way to visit her sister. She is shocked at what she
     finds.
The knife clattered to the floor. “What do you mean?” Vyda’s voice was barely a
whisper. She could feel her legs shaking, threatening to give way. Damon’s
voice remained unchanged. “There is something wrong with his brain. My mother
died of the same thing, only she wasn’t as brutal about it. Chances are he
won’t have long left.” Vyda felt her stomach turn and she had to purse her lips
to hold back the vomit. Her father, the man whom she had feared her entire
life, whose heavy tread had haunted Winterfell since before she could remember.
Soon it would all fall silent.
Vyda crumpled to the floor, clutching her churning stomach.
“It will all soon be over?” She gasped.
“Yes.” Damon’s voice was harsh, uncaring.
“I won’t have to kill him?” Despite the fear she felt when he was nearby and
what he was doing to her sister, she was relieved it would not be her hand that
dealt the final blow.
“No. You just have to wait.” He said. That thought still sent a shiver down her
spine. The waiting. How long though? “We have to get Laina out of there.” Vyda
insisted.
“We can’t. Lady Arya was taken from him once. He won’t let her go again. You
wouldn’t reach winter town before he hunted you down.”
“She is not her!” She snapped. No more than Jeyne was.“I know that. But last
time he lost her it was a…”
“Bloodbath?” She finished for him. He frowned at her, confused. “We have to
stop him. He could kill her. You have to help me!”
“Why?” His answer took her aback. He was right. He was just a ghost, stuck here
like the rest of them.
Without another word, Vyda left him there and allowed the silence to devour him
once more.
Her feet led her to her chambers, where she stopped and put on some warmer
clothes. As the fabric slipped over her skin, she thought of what she had to
do. She could not wait for the screaming to cease and for her father to die
before seeing her sister. She had to do something.
Determined, Vyda began to collect up the freshest linen she could find before
heading back towards her father’s chambers for the second time.
She hardly even remembered the journey to his door. Only her trembling hand and
the steady knock mattered now. As she pulled away her fist from the wood, the
screaming stopped. The room beyond the door fell silent. In a moment of sheer
hope, Vyda allowed herself to believe that the three sharp knocks had been
enough to kill her father. That he had crumpled onto the bed, eyes open but
without seeing. Glassed over. Her sister staring at his dead body, confused by
his sudden stillness…
Then came the footsteps.
Vyda tried to keep her breathing regular and steady. She forced herself not to
grab at the doorway to hold herself up. The pause between his footsteps and the
turn of the key from inside the room seemed to stretch on forever. “Can I help
you?” Her father growled, clearly irritated by the interruption.
“Forgive me, m’lord. You sent for me to help Lady Arya bathe.” Vyda was shocked
by how steady her voice was. She dared not to look the beast in the eye but the
confusion he felt seemed to radiate from him. Again, there was silence as he
tried to put the non-existent pieces together. “Reek usually bathes her.” Lord
Ramsay’s tone was accusing. If her hands shook any more, she feared she’d drop
the linen. “You ordered him to see that the cooks did not serve horse again,
m’lord.” She lied.
“Yes, I did. Don’t like horse. He should be back by now, though.” He was
growing angrier with every breath she took. This was a terrible idea. “You sent
him an hour ago m’lord. Perhaps he was getting a meal for himself.”
“That little shit!” Ramsay roared. He shoved her aside so hard that she fell.
The pain of the fall was numbed, however, by the sight of him storming down the
corridor. Vyda collected up the linen and went into his chambers.
The stench billowed out, almost as strong as Ramsay’s arm had been when he’d
knocked her out of the way. She could hear the buzzing of flies but the room
was so dark that they could not be seen. Vyda shuffled gingerly across the
room, afraid of placing her foot in something she wished she hadn’t. Whatever
she would find, it was clear that her father had been living like an animal.
Somewhere in the room, she heard a rat squeak. More buzzing flies. But the
worst thing was that the bed was empty; just filthy, crumpled sheets stained
with blood and other human vileness. Laina wasn’t there.
Vyda chanced a breath and had to swallow the vomit back down. “Laina?” She
croaked. Silence. Even the flies seemed to stop buzzing. Then there was a
shuffling and two ghost grey eyes glowed in the gloom. “Vyda?” Her sister
gasped. Forgetting what lay in wait for her bare feet, Vyda ran to her sister,
who was half hidden beneath a pile of musty furs. Vyda spotted several
bitemarks around her sister’s neck and breasts, the blood forming a fragile
crust around them. The bruises were worse. Much worse. “Come on. Let’s get you
into a bath.”
The bathing room was a little better, although Vyda had to scrub a few
unidentifiable stains out of the bathtub before she could fill it. She had lit
a fire too as a source of light. When she had tried to open one of the shutters
that covered the window, her sister had insisted she didn’t. “My lord doesn’t
like it. The light gives him such awful headaches.” Vyda had let it be and in
the end she was almost grateful. The firelight illuminated enough of her
sisters’ body to show what damage had been done. Vyda did her best to clean the
open wounds, but she knew that she would have to do a lot more than that to
prevent them from becoming infected. “I’m going to get you out of here,
alright? I swear.” Vyda promised as she settled Laina back onto the bed.
“Don’t worry about me. It’s not so bad. As long as I keep screaming. It makes
him happy. He hasn’t been happy in a very long time, you know.” Laina’s voice
sounded peaceful, almost serene. Vyda was thankful for the darkness then. At
least Laina could not see the tears that marked her face.
***** Chapter 32 *****
Chapter Summary
     Vyda struggles with the weight of ruling Winterfell. To add to her
     strains, Laina has fallen ill.
Despite all the damage he had caused, Vyda had now begun to appreciate her
fathers’ mental instability. Over the next two months, she was able to tend to
her sister on a daily basis, using the same lie she had told him on her first
visit. It worked every time. Nevertheless, she still trembled every time the
door opened, wondering if this would be the time her luck ran out.
It was still hard to stomach what was being done to her sister, but getting to
see her every day helped. At least she knew she was alive. The smell of the
room was becoming easier to stomach too as Vyda grew used to it. She no longer
had to run out into the courtyard and throw up when she visited. Laina, on the
other hand, wasn’t doing so well. Vyda found a new injury every day. What’s
more, her sister seemed to be falling ill. She threw up a lot, adding to the
stench. Vyda assumed it was due to lack of air and, on one visit, had skipped
bathing her sister in favour of taking her outside. They’d climbed the nearest
tower and stood on the top for a time. Laina had enjoyed the fresh air, turning
her face upwards to feel the sun on her face.
It didn’t seem to have any effect on her illness though.
“I need to get you out of here.” Vyda told her sister one day as she scrubbed
her back.
“I’m fine, really.” Laina assured in that airy tone of hers.
“You are not fine! You are sick.” She reminded her, suddenly frustrated.
Whenever Vyda mentioned anything bad about her sister’s circumstances, her
sister would brush it aside as though it were no big deal. Worse still, if Vyda
ever said anything bad about their father Laina would jump to his defence!
“I’m only really sick in the mornings, and then it goes away again.” Her sister
insisted. It was true. Her illness was a strange one. The retching happened
almost daily, but her sister never grew any thinner. If anything, she seemed to
be gaining weight. Even so, it still made Vyda feel uneasy.
Once she was done bathing her sister, Vyda headed to the library. She liked it
in there. It was sort of an escape from the rest of the castle and she could
lose herself in any of the books there. As the books had mainly come from the
Dreadfort or maesters working for House Bolton, they were short on romantic
tales most girls Vyda’s age loved. She enjoyed learning about the histories
though. They didn’t create false hope like the romantic tales of brave knights
and fair ladies would.
She spent most of her time in the library these days, whenever she wasn’t with
Laina. It was her sanctuary. Her sacred place. No one could hurt her there and
she loved nothing more than to escape to places in the history books where
dragons roamed the skies and direwolves prowled the woods. Though, of course,
the thought of direwolves always sent a chill running through her.
Today however, she found herself searching through books that described
different illnesses, desperate for some explanation for Laina’s strange
sickness. So far, there was nothing that matched what she was looking for. She
had read through three hefty tomes already, reading about every disease there
was. She was pretty sure she had studied the symptoms of every kind of disease
that existed in the Seven Kingdoms. Twice. Vyda had even studied a small book
on poisons but that was about as helpful as the others. Besides, who would want
to poison Laina? She was the good one.
As Vyda readied herself to battle through yet another dusty tome, she heard the
door to the library open and froze where she sat. Damon strode towards her, his
face creased with worry and concern. “You should read this.” He muttered,
thrusting a letter towards her. Quite frankly, she was glad for the break from
reading about diseases. “What is it?” She asked, scanning the first few lines.
“Word from Lord Garlan. Sansa Stark’s army has reached the Neck. Her army is
combined of men from the Vale who follow her husband, though they say it is she
who truly leads them, and men from the Riverlands. No doubt the Crannogmen will
join her soon enough. Worse still, she defeated the King’s army and took Ser
Loras, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and brother of Queen Margaery.” Vyda
shoved the letter away, unsure of what to make of the news.
“What am I to do about it? You bring this to me and expect me to know what to
do? I am a girl of four and ten. Would you have me muster an army?” She
snapped, weary of always being the one that was turned to when trouble arose.
“If that army gets through the Neck and the Tyrell host, we’ll be next. And we
can’t stop them. There are four of us. A madman, a halfwit, a girl of four and
ten and an old man. You couldn’t muster an army even if you tried. The Lords of
the North hear the name Stark and are deaf to anything else. When Sansa Stark’s
army smashes the Tyrell’s, you’d better be ready to beg for your life, and your
sister’s too.” He snapped back. Vyda knew he was right about their fight being
lost. House Bolton had lost its fight many years ago. “If you want to leave
Damon, then go. I won’t stop you. We can die just fine without you.” She
muttered bitterly. Damon gave her a hard look, turned on his heel and left the
room. He is tired of dealing with little girlsshe thought. Perhaps they had
more in common than they thought.
***** Chapter 33 *****
Chapter Summary
     Both Vyda and Damon have a rough night. Things seem to be far too
     peaceful in Winterfell...
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
It was the silence that kept her awake. Vyda lay still in her bed, waiting for
a sound, hopeful for the screams to fill the halls once again. She had not
noticed the silence at first, too engrossed in her reading. But now, alone with
the night crawling past, it was all she knew. It’s not so bad. As long as I
keep screaming. It makes him happy. Laina’s words rang through her head once
more. Why, then, had her sister stopped screaming? Only one answer came to
mind, and it grew stronger with every passing hour. She’s dead. He’s killed
her. Or worse still her illness took her. I failed to save her. Vyda stared up
at the canopy and tried to remember the last time her world had seemed so
silent. Her life had never been a quiet one, but that was the way of it. People
never considered the ghosts in the room. Here at Winterfell, there had at first
been many people. Lord Ramsay and his weeping wife, Lord and Lady Bolton for a
time, other Lords now and then whose names she could no longer recall, workers,
Ramsay’s men, the Tyrell garrison, Theon…
And before Winterfell there had been the brothel. That had never been quiet.
Vyda had heard many things she now knew no child should have heard.
There had been one occasion though when even the whores had fallen silent.
Death had been the cause for that too. The woman’s frightened, agonised screams
had sent Vyda to her small room at the top of the stout building. But even
curled up in a thick woollen blanket beneath her bed, the screams had still
pierced through, making her wince and cry. But the silence that followed was
worse. Overwhelmed by that childish curiosity that banished any wisdom, she had
crawled out from her sanctuary and ventured down to the woman’s room. It had
been the first time she had smelled death. No one had noticed when she slipped
into the room. No one ever noticed the ghosts.
There was blood everywhere. The basins of water had turned from clean and clear
to a deep crimson. The water was still warm; she had been captivated by the
steam that rose from the surface, slowly drifting upwards, undisturbed by the
chaos happening around it.
The linen they had used was stained red too. Vyda had not been captivated by
that as much as she had the steam. She had looked away as fast as she could,
swallowing the sickening feeling that was building in her stomach, though what
she saw next brought the nausea back so strongly she slapped her hand over her
mouth.
She lay on the bed, surrounded by bloodied sheets, her eyes closed as though
she were sleeping. Her skin was a pale grey but for the dark circles beneath
her closed eyes. Her lips were red with blood from where she had screamed and
made her dry lips crack. Yet despite this sight that made her tremble, Vyda
recognised her. She recognised the kind face and the lips that had smiled at
her warmly every day for the past few months. The fingers that had taken her
own small hands and pressed them to her stomach. Vyda had moved towards her
then and taken the woman’s cold, limp hand. She’d brushed a damp thread of hair
off her slick forehead. “What are you doing here girl?” A woman had hissed at
her, pulling her away from the body by her arm. “You shouldn’t be in here, no
place for a girl like you. Go on! Out!” She’d spat, before turning away from
her and pulling the sheets up to cover the woman’s face. Vyda had backed away
slowly. “Watch it!” Another woman barked when Vyda backed into her. She’d
turned then. The tiny, twisted hand had slipped out and, for a moment, it had
seemed to reach out to her. Vyda had shrunk away from it, suddenly afraid of
deaths touch. Perhaps it had been a trick of the light. The child had been born
with the umbilical cord wrapped about its neck, she’d learned later on. As the
breath had left it, the life’s blood had poured from the mother; the woman whom
she’d sat with those nine months while she’d waited for the babe to be born.
Who had become something of a friend. Who she had told her stories to. Whose
hair she had held out of the way each morning as the woman retched…
Amidst the silence, Vyda was suddenly deafened as the realisation came crashing
down around her.
Damon leaned back in his chair, downing the dregs at the bottom of his cup.
Light slowly seeped into the room, signalling the coming of dawn. Great.
Another fucking day. He placed the cup back on the table and rubbed his eyes
wearily. He had not slept. As he had grown older, he’d found sleep came to him
harder. He didn’t think that was the way it was supposed to be. When he had
been a younger man, he would fight off the siren call of sleep until he had
either fucked someone, whipped someone or killed someone. Now though, he just
wanted to sleep. But the silence forbade it. All night it had lasted. He
wondered who had died first, the Lord or the Lady. He found a certain comfort
in the fact that it was all over. There was just one thing that nibbled away at
his mind. Leona. What the fuck would he do with her now? She was the Lady of
Winterfell, the only living heir of House Bolton. And a Stark army was coming
for her.
They could leave together. She could be his daughter. They could find somewhere
to live. It wouldn’t have to be for long; he’d sell her off to a man as soon as
he could. Women who weren’t whores just got in the way. But something told him
she wouldn’t leave, not willingly anyway. Despite how much she got beneath his
skin, with her sullen looks and spiteful words, he felt uncomfortable leaving
her here…
Speak of demons and they shall appear, was the saying that sprung to his mind.
Leona stood in the doorway, staring at him with her hard, cold, ghost grey
eyes. The look made him shiver. She reminded him too much of her father. Dark
circles had settled beneath her eyes. He was sure if he looked in a mirror he’d
see similar markings on his own face. “Have you slept at all, child?” He asked,
as softly as he was able. She moved towards him. When she was standing in front
of the table he sat behind, she stopped and looked down at the rough wooden
table top, picking at a splinter in the wood. “You may as well go.
Immediately.” She said with a voice as cold as her gaze.
How loud had he been thinking?
Damon stared at her for a moment but she did not look at him. It was as though
he was not there. Simply a ghost in the room. “What will you do for meat? Do
you know how to kill a chicken at least?” Was all he could think to say. Leona
shook her head. “Come on.” He said, standing unsteadily on old legs.
Vyda watched as he swooped one of the birds off of their feet, holding its body
firmly. “Clean and quick is the way. No second thoughts.” He instructed, miming
the action that would snap the creature’s fragile neck. “See?” She nodded
wordlessly.
He released the bird.
“Go on then.” He indicated to the chickens that pecked around their feet and
took a step back.
“What? Now?”
“What else are you going to eat tonight?” Damon’s smug smile made him look
years younger, almost handsome. It irritated her. Vyda gritted her teeth and
swooped down to snatch the bird closest to her…and missed. It was cold in the
yard but she grew warmer with each attempt. She made one final, clumsy grab and
held on to it with an iron grip. The bird beat its wings and squawked,
panicked. Vyda pursed her lips as she tried to figure out how Damon had held
onto it so easily. “Clean and quick.” He reminded her. He doubted her. She
heard it in his voice.
She would kill the damn bird.
Gripping the neck tightly, she began to squeeze. But her hands would only half
obey her. Sensing her hesitation, the bird made a desperate bid for freedom and
writhed from her grasp. In one swift, graceful motion, Damon had swooped down,
picked it up and twisted the neck until he heard it snap.
He held the body out to her; she forced herself to take it. Warm. Heavy. Still.
A cold breeze filled the yard and tousled his greying hair. The look he gave
her was worse than the beating wings. Worse than the limp body in her hands.
Without a word he turned his back and walked away.
Chapter End Notes
     Goodbye Damon...
***** Chapter 34 *****
Chapter Summary
     Vyda delivers hard truths.
She didn’t see Damon after that. As she wondered through the castle, Vyda would
find herself looking for him, or listening out for signs that he was still
there somewhere. He was gone though, and she couldn’t help but feel that a
little part of her had gone with him.
There was no time to brood on it though.
The moment had been put off for long enough. Stopping her pointless pacing,
Vyda turned and headed straight towards her father’s chambers. She felt
strangely calm. Either Ramsay or Laina was dead in there, why else would the
screaming have stopped? And that meant it was over.
Gods, how cruel she sounded.
I am a Bolton she thought. Cruelty is in my blood. So she allowed the thought
to remain undisturbed.
She didn’t bother to knock this time. There was no sign of life from the
outside of the door. Nothing stirred within either when she peered in. “Laina?”
She called, her voice trembling slightly, her earlier calmness quickly fading.
“Laina?” She whimpered again.
“Shh.” A hand flapped from somewhere on the bed. As her eyes began to adjust,
Vyda spotted two figures on the bed. A man, dressed from the waist down, lay on
top of her sister, his head pressed to Laina’s stomach. Laina smiled at her
with a smile that turned Vyda’s stomach. Vyda hurried over and snatched up her
hand, holding it in an iron grasp. “My lady wife has my son inside her.” Ramsay
practically hummed the words to no one in particular. Anger began to boil
inside her as he pressed soft kisses against the swell of Laina’s stomach. Her
hand closed in on Laina’s, unknowingly crushing the thin, pale fingers. “Vyda,
you’re hurting!” Her sister gasped. Ramsay’s head snapped up, his eyes fixing
on Vyda’s. She stared back. “No one hurts my lady wife without my permission.”
He growled softly, his gentle smile swiftly turning into a vicious, ugly snarl.
“Go and tell my father of our good news, then return to me for your punishment.
I’ll be in need of a new plaything while Reek is busy caring for my lady wife.”
He smiled his cruel smile. It used to strike fear into any heart that saw it.
But now…now it sagged with age. His eyes were milky and swam with a constant
confusion. Vyda suspected the dark cave he had made for himself had damaged his
eyesight too. “Your father is dead.” She spat. The confusion stirred and
shifted in his eyes, spreading to his brow. “How? When?” He gasped. She ignored
him and grabbed Laina’s face as gently as she could despite her rage. “Look at
her. LOOK AT HER!” Vyda screamed. Ramsay did. “She is not your wife. She never
has been your wife. She is your daughter, you sick, twisted, bastard!” Vyda
cried. She was vaguely aware of Laina’s grip on her arm but it did nothing to
hold her back. “Your wife’s been dead for years! And even thatwas a lie. She
was no Stark was she? Just some steward’s whelp you liked to hear scream all
day and all night!” Ramsay reeled away from her as though she had struck him.
“And Reek? He wasn’t Reek at all! His name was Theon Greyjoy,remember? Theon
and…Jeyne…her name was Jeyne! And you killed them both, the little pets you
created for your own amusement. Your little creations that did whatever you bid
them, bastard!” Vyda would have hit him, launched herself at him like Leona
would have done. But she didn’t, because invisible hands were doing that for
her. At first she thought it was the ghosts dealing the blows. The Starks,
Theon, Jeyne, all having their turn. It was a moment before she realised he was
having some sort of fit. The clouds of rage lifted as her father convulsed on
the floor, begging for her to stop. Eventually he ceased writhing and clawing
at the floorboards. He rolled into a ball, his back to them, covering his face
with his bloodied hands. If she listened closely, Vyda could still hear him
whimpering. She turned back to Laina, who was still staring at their father’s
quivering mess of a body. “He’s sad.” Was all she said. “You were too unkind.”
She spoke very gently, full of compassion for her father, velveting her
reproach for Vyda.
Vyda could have shaken her.
“You do understand that you are going to have a child now, don’t you?” Mild
astonishment passed over Laina’s face, then it left it tranquil as before.
Nothing, it seemed, could disturb her serenity. “Go to my chambers. I’ll deal
with him.” Vyda instructed.
“What are you going to do?” Laina asked. Vyda tried not to sound surprised at
her sister second guessing her. “I said I’d deal with him. Now go.” She did not
move until her sisters footsteps had died away.  
The rain spat down on her relentlessly. The tears of every Frey had been
bottled up by the Gods when they’d cried and pleaded her for mercy, and they
were being poured down upon her now. If the Gods were trying to make her feel
guilty, they were failing. Sansa lifted her face to the skies and bathed in the
grief of her enemies. It soaked through her cloak and furs to the dress of blue
wool she wore beneath, right down to her linen shift. It still managed to make
her feel cleansed and refreshed, despite how long these tears had been falling.
There had been a lot of Freys.
A choking, guttural cough broke through her cleansing ritual and she opened her
eyes to see the men around her. Some were slumped against the slimy stone walls
that encircled the courtyards. Others, mostly the younger men so eager to
please, remained standing at their posts. She could see the signs of weariness
beginning to eat away at them though. Sansa watched one closely as he began to
sway where he stood, his head drooping. She wondered which man would be the
next whose body was flung from the battlements.
As useful as Moat Cailin was, it was no place for men to dwell. The never-
ceasing rain had made everything wet. Men slept close together for warmth,
attracting vermin, and with vermin came disease. Another man behind her let out
a bone-shattering cough and she turned to look at him. He stared back at her.
He hates me. He does not want to, but he does.
Sansa turned away.
She could not turn back. She could not retreat. If she retreated, the Tyrell
host would take Moat Cailin and they would have no hope of passing through the
neck. She had tried to be fair with her choosing, asking for volunteers to
garrison Moat Cailin so the whole army did not need to cross the boggy
marshland that surrounded the ancient fortress. But as the rain fell, so had
her most loyal men, and she had resorted to picking and choosing.
Sansa had turned to the lowest of the low, as any noblewoman would.
She could still feel the dying man’s gaze burning a hole into her back.  
If I am ever queen I will make them love me. She bit back a laugh, pulled up
her hood and strode back over to the Gatehouse Tower.
***** Chapter 35 *****
Chapter Summary
     Vyda makes a decision that even she is surprised by. Laina finds
     comfort with the only other person she can.
It would have been so easy. She had been longing to do it for days, perhaps
months, maybe even years. But now the time had come for her to end it all…
And she froze.
He cowered and shuddered at her feet like a frightened child. This man that had
haunted her and terrified her for her whole life. The man that had raped her
mother. The father that was no father. And she couldn’t kill him.
Chances are he won’t have long left.
She crouched down beside him, reached out, and laid a trembling hand on his
shoulder. He flinched but made no attempt to move away. Vyda allowed her hand
to linger there for a moment. Had she ever even touched her father? She
remembered the way he had grabbed her neck that one time before Theon had died.
He’d touched her hair too, once. A long time ago. They’d been fighting over a
chicken bone. But other than that…
“My Lord,” She muttered, shaking him slightly. “My Lord, please, you must come
with me.” She cooed, using the voice she had used to soothe Laina when they
were children. Her father turned to look at her, his ghost grey eyes meeting
her own. “Come with me.” Vyda ordered gently, standing up and holding out her
hand. Her father took it. “You are tired my Lord, you need rest.” She told him.
He nodded, his face vacant and confused. Vyda helped him to stand up on shaky
legs and was alarmed at how frail and light he had become. This man so many had
called a monster was now little more than a shell of his former self. He leaned
on her for support as she led him out of the room, the scent outside seemed
fresh and clean in comparison and she allowed him to pause and take down gulps
of clean air. “This way my Lord.” She encouraged, taking his arm once again and
gently leading him forward until she found another set of chambers cleaner than
the last.
The bed had been covered with a sheet but she pushed him down on top of it,
laying him down and covering with a musty old fur pelt. “You should rest, my
Lord.” She muttered, feeling more foolish now. What was she doing? Caring for
him as though he were a child was the last thing she had expected to do to him.
It’s not too late. He is weak. If you smothered him with a pillow, I doubt he
would have the strength to fight back. It made sense, but the thought still
frightened her.
She didn’t wantto kill him. She wanted what she had always wanted. A father.
Someone to hold her and take care of her and treat her like a child.
Fearing he would see the tears in her eyes, she turned away.
When she felt his cold fingers clasp her wrist, she cried out both out of
surprise and fear. Slowly, she turned back to him, not meeting his gaze.
“Who are you?” He asked, his voice clear and sure. She felt a tear fall down
her cheek and hurriedly brushed it away. “My name’s Vyda.” Feeling a sudden
courage stir within her, she met his confused gaze with her own, making it as
gentle as she could. “And I am your daughter.”
She ran all the way to her old chambers; a sudden, overwhelming sense of fear
and panic gripped her, its hold getting tighter and tighter with every step.
She paused only to retch out of a window before setting off at a run once more.
Once Laina reached her old chambers that she had shared with Vyda, she calmed a
little and dived beneath the covers of the bed, listening to her breathing as
it began to slow.
And then she waited.
She heard the footsteps before anyone else could, had there been anyone else.
Almost by instinct, she cocked her head and listened to her sister’s whispers,
feeling comforted by them. A moment later, her other half clambered in beside
her. Once again, they clung to each other. They stared into each other’s eyes,
unblinking. Laina felt herself relax in the safety of her sister’s arms. And
for the first time since her Lord had separated them after the game they had
been playing, she felt whole.  
***** Chapter 36 *****
Chapter Summary
     Vyda finds happiness but knows it cannot last. She does not realise
     that danger is closer than she thinks.
It seemed to be some sort of consolation for all the horror that had put her
there; as though the Gods had only just acknowledged her existence and that
they probably owed her a kindness. Vyda spent most of her time with her father
in his chambers, with the exception of cooking meals and finding new books to
read. Sometimes she would read aloud to him. Vyda doubted he truly understood
everything she was saying and the books on childbirth made for dull reading,
but she cherished every moment all the same. Her father seemed to like hearing
the sound of her voice. He would ask her questions, trying to piece together
their past with his confused and fragile mind. She would hold his hand gently,
though there was a firmness to the touch as though she feared he would just
slip away, and tell him everything. How good a father he was. How much he loved
her. How much she loved him. How he’d taught her to ride a pony down in the
yard. How he’d taught her to shoot a bow, and that he’d told her she was
exceptionally good and how proud he’d been of her. How good and kind and gentle
he was.
Then Ramsay would smile, grip her hand a little tighter and mutter “I remember
now.” And Vyda would turn away so he did not see the tears that fell.
He enjoyed stories too. Her father was unable to move about much so it fell to
her to describe the outside world. “Perfect.” She would say as he lay on the
bed, his eyes closed, imagining the world beyond the walls of his chambers.
“Everything is perfect.” She would lie.
Vyda knew she should be spending time with her sister; preparing her for what
was to come as best she could. They had no Maester and Vyda feared what people
would say if she asked for help, so she had decided she would deliver the baby
herself. She had read enough about it to know what to do, even if Laina did
not.
But as the days turned to weeks and weeks to months, Vyda found it harder and
harder to tear herself away from her deteriorating, perfect father’s side.
She knew that Leona was with Laina. She also knew Leona would never hurt her
sister, not truly.
What she did not know of was the growing hatred Leona bore the unborn child.
The twins would spend all their time together; talking in their alien tongue,
playing, exploring, hunting for food, just like they had when they were
children.
But as Laina’s stomach grew larger and her time drew nearer, she was unable to
do as much and would tire quickly. She would wander off to some private corner
and sit for hours, quite content, just holding her stomach and feeling the life
stir within her.
And Leona would watch.
She did not truly understand, of course. How could she? She had never been
educated in such matters. But somehow she knew something was growing inside her
sister. That it was preventing her sister from being with her. That it was a
part of Laina, just as she was.
And it scared her.
It proved to be quite a battle. The losses had been great on both sides and for
a moment from her spot on the hillside where she’d watched the bloodbath
beneath her, she’d feared they were losing. Only for a moment though. The Queen
in the North had the Crannogmen on her side. Her forces had managed to turn the
Tyrell host so that the bogs were to their left. As her forces had attacked the
front, the bog devils had picked them off from the left with their poison
arrows. The Tyrells had put up a good fight. But once Lord Garlan was pulled
from his horse, the Tyrell host had lost heart. Many had surrendered and laid
their swords at her feet. Others had fled. Let them flee she thought.
Southerners had no more power here than the old gods had in the South.
Sansa saw a small group of men approaching her, led by her husband. “My Lady,
we found the body.” He said gravely.
“I thank you. See that the Silent Sisters take care of it and send his bones
back to his sister, with my condolences. I had not wished for him to meet such
a bloody end.” She admitted. And a bloody end it had been. As they carried Lord
Garlan passed her, she caught sight of his wounds. His head was caved in from
where the death blow had been dealt. His arm was unhinged and one leg was
mangled so that it twisted sickeningly. Sansa stared at it. “Best not to look,
Sansa.” Harrold advised her softly. But she did. She remembered how he had
danced with her when she’d married the Imp. How kind he had been…
“They took off your father’s head and stuck it on a spike for all the world to
see. They sewed your brothers wolfs head to his body. They threw your mother’s
body…”
“The Lannister’s did that. The Tyrell’s did not. They were always kind to me.
You should have made sure his body was not abused in such a way. They are your
men.” She hissed, her voice cold.
“No. They are your men.” Her husband muttered back, his face dark. “I will see
to it that you orders are met, my Lady.” He brushed past her without another
word. She let him go. He would apologise later in the darkness of their
bedchamber where no one else could hear.  
***** Chapter 37 *****
Chapter Summary
     Another Bolton is born. Another Bolton bastard. Another Bolton
     bastard with ghost grey eyes...
“Laina!” The cry tore her away from her father’s side. It came again and again;
panicked, fearful and angry all at once. Vyda bolted down towards her old
chambers. When she burst into the room, she was momentarily shocked by the size
of her sister’s stomach. When had she grown so big? There was no time to dwell
on it though. Laina clutched her stomach as another spasm of pain ripped
through her. But she did not scream. If anything, the girl had a look of
determination on her face. Leona was with her though and it took Vyda a moment
to realise that she had been the one to cry out. All the panic and fear had
gone from Leona’s voice now though, leaving behind only anger.
Vyda pushed past her and led her sister over to the bed, forcing her to lie
down on the relatively clean sheets. “Leona, go and heat some water!” She
ordered. Silence and a ferocious glare was Leona’s only answer. Quickly judging
what stage Laina was at, Vyda concluded that she had enough time to start up a
fire in the hearth, gather the linen she had washed in preparation, and find
everything else she needed. Yet it made leaving her sister no easier. “I’ll be
back soon Laina, alright?” She assured. Laina seemed deaf and blind to her
though. Instead, her sister reached out a hand towards Leona. “Take it!” Vyda
barked, earning another angry glare. She left them together, hands-clasped,
while she went to gather her supplies.
Despite how delicate she had always appeared to be, Laina did not cry out in
pain. Perhaps she had endured so much of it that it had lost its foul flavour.
She huffed and panted, snorting and sweating like some great beast; eyes
bulging, teeth bared. But she did not cry out. She ate her pain and turned it
into strength inside her, never letting go of her sister’s hand. Leona’s hand.
The cries that filled Vyda’s ears and echoed around them were not Laina’s, but
Leona’s. The sound was almost as painful for Vyda as watching her sister’s
suffering, and the cries did not stop until the squalling of a baby was heard.
A boy. A tiny, healthy boy.
After she’d held her child for a moment, Laina drifted into sleep; smiling even
when her dreams engulfed her.
Vyda bathed the baby, cleansing him of the blood that covered him from his tiny
head to delicate feet. His eyes opened and goggled in surprise at the touch of
the warm water. It still shocked Vyda when she caught his stare and saw how
similar his eyes were to her own. It saddened her. You bear our curse too now.
As she rocked him to sleep, watching her sister all the while, she thought of
what they could name him. The first she thought of was Theon, but looking into
the infants eyes she knew it was all wrong. Theon should no longer be enslaved
to this family by anything but memory, and the thought of a Theon with those
eyes hurt too much; the eyes that had caused him so much pain and suffering.
She couldn’t do that to him.
Her second thought was Roose or Ramsay. The names matched the eyes, but somehow
the thought of another Roose or Ramsay Bolton made her stomach turn.
He’s not a Bolton. He’s a Snow, like me.
It was true. Despite what the father had believed, the child was born out of
wedlock. That made him a bastard. Another Snow with a set of ghost grey eyes.
It was too cruel.
She set the babe down beside its mother, no longer wanting to touch it, as
though they would taint each other further through contact. “Laina can name
you.” Vyda muttered. That made her feel a little better. The responsibility was
no longer hers to bear.
When Laina woke up, Vyda showed her how to feed the child. “Where is Leona?”
Laina asked, looking around the room whilst her child suckled happily. Vyda had
almost forgotten Leona had been there at all. She had been so used to
forgetting her other half-sister’s existence. “I don’t know. Maybe she just got
hungry.” Vyda muttered, watching the baby all the while.
“I’m hungry too.” Laina whined. Vyda pursed her lips, suddenly aware of how
much of a child Laina was herself. “I’ll go and get you some food. You stay
there with the baby.” She ordered. Laina smiled and turned her attentions back
to the suckling child.
Vyda knew she should go and get food for the child-mother straight away, but it
had been almost an entire day and a night since she had seen her father. She
began to worry. What if he had panicked over where she had been? What if he had
attempted to go and look for her while she was gone? He could have fallen in
search for her, unable to get up. Had he been crying out for her? Had his
screams for help been drowned out by Leona’s cries?
Vyda began to run down the corridors, her heart gripped by fear.
She needn’t have worried though.
Her father was still in bed, she saw as she made her way into the room, his
eyelids shut as he slept peacefully. Vyda went and sat down next to him. “I’m
back father.” She whispered, all thoughts of her hungry sister forgotten. She
planted a soft kiss on his forehead and pushed his greying hair back behind his
ear. When she pulled her hand away, her fingertips were stained red with blood.
***** Chapter 38 *****
Chapter Summary
     Vyda finds herself strangely protective of the child. She begins to
     notice Leona behaving strangely.
Six times she tried, and six times she failed. Every time the cushion covered
his face, she’d panic and pull it away, hoping his eyes had opened while his
face had been hidden. They never were. His eyelids remained closed, more blood
might drip from his ear, and his chest would rise and fall with every shallow
breath. Vyda knew the time Damon had spoken of had come; that her father was as
good as dead. I should put him out of his misery. Yet she clung to hope with
every painful breath he took.
His death would be a blessing for all of them, she knew. He could be in pain in
that tormented mind of his and unable to say it. She needed to be with her
sister and the baby (whom her sister had insisted on naming Derren, despite
Vyda’s protests. At least they could claim that it was him who was the father
if anyone asked), and not just because Laina needed help caring for it. It was
clear to Vyda now that Leona was jealous of the baby. More jealous than she had
been of Myranda, more jealous than of Derren and of Vyda. Laina had been fond
of Myranda, she believed she had loved Derren and she had always loved Vyda.
But none of them compared to the love a twin could bear a twin. Apart from,
apparently, the love between a mother and her child. Vyda should not have been
surprised by the extent of Leona’s hatred. She had witnessed how violent Leona
could be when she felt threatened. But she had underestimated the lengths Leona
would go to until she saw it with her own eyes.
Vyda never seemed to sleep. She spent her time going from Laina’s room to her
father’s. One afternoon, she had left her father’s side early after another
failed attempt to smother him. She knew Laina would be asleep, but that was
fine. She could spend time with Derren. Until he was born, Vyda had seen the
infant as a problem that would need resolving, she had never expected that she
would love him. He was Laina’s, that was reason enough. But it also felt as
though he was hers. She would watch him and hold him, marvelling at his soft,
pale skin and his eyes. The more she looked into them, the more she decided
they were not like Ramsay’s at all. They were softer, warmer, kinder. Vyda knew
she had to protect him for Laina’s sake, and Laina for his sake, and both of
them for herself.
So when she’d peered in through the chamber door and seen Leona standing over
the makeshift crib, every nerve had stood on end. Leona’s gaze was fixed on
Derren, and there was something in her hands that was shielded from sight by
the side of the crib. Almost by instinct, Vyda released a feral snarl. Leona
had started then, snapping her head up and baring her teeth at the sound before
admitting defeat and scurrying off back into the shadows. But not before Vyda
had spotted the small cushion in her hand. Vyda dashed over to the crib and
breathed a sigh of relief. Derren lay in the crib sound asleep, his chest
rising and falling in a rhythm that could melt her heart. Safe.
For now.
Vyda added spying on Leona to her list of things to do. While Laina was awake
and with Derren, Vyda slipped away unnoticed. Her old days of haunting came in
useful again as she watched from behind faded tapestries and the trees in the
Godswood. She discovered that Leona slept in the watch tower that Theon had
once kept Vyda in when she was younger. When Leona would disappear inside
there, Vyda would go and check on her comatose father, perhaps catching an
hours sleep. But Leona never seemed to sleep for long.
There was a randomness to Leona’s actions. She never seemed to live by normal
times; days or nights, it made no matter. She may do the same action each day,
but it appeared to be meaningless. She was obeying dictates beyond the
understanding of anyone but herself.
But gradually, one ritual she performed every day came to Vyda’s attention.
Once, twice, three times Leona would go into the old library that had been her
sanctuary, and come out carrying a stack of old, dry books. Leona would take
them into her father’s old chambers, and set them down on the floor. Then she
would lose interest. Vyda was sure Leona knew what she was doing, but it was an
absent-minded act, half forgetful. When Leona left the room, Vyda would creep
in and take the books out and put them in the chambers her father was in now.
Leona never seemed to notice the missing books, just carried on bringing more
in until Vyda was sure there were none left in the library.
One day though, Vyda’s routine was broken.
Laina went to bed earlier than usual and baby Derren had been colicky
throughout the day. Vyda couldn’t bring herself to leave them, not even to
check on her father. So she’d sat down beside Laina on the bed, with Derren’s
crib at the foot of it. A sudden peace fell over the room and Vyda was aware of
how she was simply sitting there, doing nothing. The peacefulness of the room
slowly filtered into her too, so much so that she could not imagine ever being
able to tear herself away from it. She was tired of watching Laina and Derren
while they slept and her father and Leona when they were awake. She hardly ever
got a chance to sleep. But here, in the room with Derren so close and Laina
beside her, she felt her breathing begin to rise and fall in perfect harmony
with their’s. Slowly, her eyelids began to droop…
She woke to the sound of light footsteps inching their way into the room.
***** Chapter 39 *****
Chapter Summary
     Vyda is horrified when she discovers what Leona is going to do and is
     forced to make some sacrifices.
She was alert before her eyes had even opened. Between her lashes, Vyda watched
as Leona padded into the room, her ghost grey eyes shining in the darkness,
watching only the crib and nothing else. She stretched out her hands, like the
talons of a hawk reaching out for a rodent in the grass. Derren made no sound
as she lifted him but Vyda saw he began to squirm in her arms. He didn’t like
to be in anyone’s arms but Laina’s and he was not fooled by a twin like most
people had been.
She should have called out, but she did not. Instead, Vyda followed her from
the room and along the corridor, sticking to the shadows. Night had fallen, but
there was a full moon guiding her way through the castle.
Vyda followed her all the way to her father’s old chambers and peered through
the door that Leona had left ajar. She flinched when Leona set Derren down on
the soiled bed; how dirtyit was. But she had no time to fret over it. Leona
moved over to the hearth where she had made a pile of something. The shutters
were still over the windows though, barring the light and making it impossible
to guess what it was by looking at it. But Vyda did not need to look in order
to see.
Leona’s fires were random affairs. Vyda had learnt how to build a proper fire
back when she’d lived in the brothel in winter town. But Leona’s fires were
wild and they either did not burn at all or they were uncontrollable.
The realization of what she intended slowly unfolded in front of Vyda.
It would not light. Would it? There was no warmth in the room and it was still
damp and disgusting. A fire couldn’t catch. But Vyda failed to reassure
herself. Leona’s desire for flames was all the kindling she would need. The
incendiary magic she possessed was so strong she could set fire to water if she
wanted to badly enough.
In horror, Vyda watched as she placed Derren on the pile. Then she looked
around the room. What was she after?
Vyda darted back into the shadows as Leona headed towards the door. She did not
see her, too intent to find whatever it was she was looking for. She
disappeared down the corridor. Vyda wasted no time. She hurried over to the
infant who reached up towards her, smiling in recognition. Vyda pulled him out
of the blanket and stuffed some of the wood into it in his place.
By the time she placed it back on the pile, she was out of time.
Vyda picked up the baby and fled into the safety of the shadows, clutching
Derren close to her so he would not get cold. Leona appeared just as Vyda got
behind the door, her arms filled with books. She paused for a heart-stopping
moment. Had she noticed Derren was missing?
Then Vyda heard the tearing of paper.
She peered around the door, watching as Leona tore out the guts of each book,
her face screwed up in anger and hatred. Vyda could have wept. She could have
flung herself at Leona and set fire to her herself. All of the books. All of
the books that had been her sanctuary when she was alone. You’d had Laina, they
were all I had. Vyda forced herself to stay still for Derren’s sake. He peered
up at her, his pale eyes taking in the grief on her face. He opened his mouth
to wail. No, please no. She shook her head at him frantically. She did not know
if he understood her or if it was just good fortune, but the babe choked back
his cry.
The sound of tearing paper ceased and was replaced by the clink clink clinkof
metal on stone. The sound was oddly comforting. Leona would never achieve what
she had wanted to. The baby was safe in her arms, not on the pyre. What if I
hadn’t been there? How could Leona have imagined her sister would return to her
the moment the child was dead?
It was the plan of a madwoman.
Derren opened his mouth again, as if to cry out. Vyda knew she had to get him
to safety. She could worry about Laina as soon as the boy was safe.
Whilst Leona’s back was turned, Vyda slipped out of the room, not checking to
see if she had been heard as she bolted down the corridors and out into the
courtyard. There was only one place she felt she could go. It had survived a
fire before, it could do so again now. But Vyda did not stop until they were
beneath the Weirwood tree. It stared at her, its mouth agape in a silent
scream. Gods protect himshe begged as she settled him down amongst its knarled
roots. She turned away from him, not wanting to linger long in the gaze of the
gods. As she ran back towards the keep, she thought of what she should do.
Laina would have no love left for her sister once she realised what she’d tried
to do. She’d leave easily. They could run away to the Dreadfort. Was their
grandfather’s wife still alive? She did not know. What’s more, the Dreadfort
was not appealing to her. She did not want them to be Bolton’s anymore. Her and
Laina and Derren could flee South. They could start a new life together,
somewhere warm. Laina could marry if she so wished, she would not be short of
suitors. They would leave Winterfell behind and they would be happy, just the
three of them…
She was almost there when her future shattered. Shards of glass burst from the
window, raining down on the yard. Vyda looked up towards the room and saw not
one, but two figures.
Laina!
The rest of the keep was untouched, for now, but as she got closer to the
chamber, the scent of burning paper and something stronger hit her nostrils. It
did not stop her though. Vyda carried on until she was at the doorway of the
chamber. There she froze in amazement.
The flames chased each other up the tapestries and the hearth was now a raging
inferno. But that was not what shocked her. In the centre of it all, Laina,
passive, docile Laina was returning blow for blow, kick for kick, bite for
bite. She screamed at her sister, her fury hotter than the fire around them.
She had never retaliated against her sister before but now she was. For her
child.
Vyda hopped over the fire and dodged, hurrying towards her sister. She grabbed
at her and caught her clothing, pulling her close so that she could hear her.
“He is safe!” Vyda tried to say, but the fire choked her. “Laina! He is
alright! I’ve saved him!” Vyda screamed, but her sister did not seem to notice.
Somehow, Laina twisted out of her grasp and disappeared into the smoke. She
heard me. I know she heard me. Yet she will not come.
She was bound to her sister.
She was bound.
The smoke stung her eyes. Blinded, Vyda stumbled into the smoke.
Then I will break the bond.
As soon as she felt her sister, she clung on. Laina tried to fight her way back
to Leona. I will not let her die. I will save her. With a ferocity she did not
know she possessed, Vyda dragged her to the door and out of it.
The door, as it had been Jeyne’s door and built for keeping people in, was
heavy oak. It wouldn’t burn easily. Vyda pulled it shut behind them. She went
to turn the key, locking Leona inside. The key was hot and burned her hand as
she grasped it. She was about to pull it away when Laina placed her hand over
hers, trying to let herself back into the room. It was something stronger than
fire that called to her in that room, and it felt like something stronger than
fire as Vyda’s hand burned. Laina wouldn’t let go, not even when Vyda began to
scream in agony. When another scream joined hers, Laina pulled away and began
to pummel desperately at the door with her fists, clawing at the wood. The
scream from the other side of the door didn’t sound human. When it sounded as
though it should run out of breath, it kept going, higher and higher, sharper
than a blade. The smell of burning flesh assaulted her nostrils and Vyda wasn’t
sure whether it was her own or Leona’s.
Outdoors, it had begun to snow. Heavily, but there was a tranquility to it. The
keep continued to burn behind them as they collapsed onto the cold ground,
rolling around in the snow. Vyda rolled onto her back, closed her eyes and
opened her mouth, letting the snow melt on her tongue. As the fire began to
spread throughout the keep, the snow turned to rain.
Her eyes snapped open.
She sat up and turned to look into the burning building. My father…Gods…what
have I done…
Tears stung her eyes and she knew it was not the smoke that caused them. I
cannot worry about that now, he was as good as dead anyway. But the thought did
not ease the ache in her heart.
The baby, I must tell Laina about the baby. Then she will be happy and
everything will be alright.
Vyda turned to her sister and opened her mouth to speak. Only a gasp escaped
her lips.
Her face…her poor, beautiful face was burnt, bloody and broken. Her ghost grey
eyes were savage, unseeing, unknowing.
Vyda looked at her face but could not find her beloved in it.
“Laina?” She whispered. “Laina?”
There was no reply.
Gods…what have I done?    
***** Chapter 40 *****
Chapter Summary
     Her feet were bare but she felt no thorns nor earth. In nothing more
     than a linen shift, she waited. The snow had formed a thin blanket
     over her before the baby began to cry. It squalled and screamed,
     pummelling his tiny fists in the air to fight against the cold. The
     door opened then.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Her feet were bare but she felt no thorns nor earth. In nothing more than a
linen shift, she waited. The snow had formed a thin blanket over her before the
baby began to cry. It squalled and screamed, pummelling his tiny fists in the
air to fight against the cold. The door opened then. The man looked down and
she could see the anger and irritation on his face. A ghost of a smile touched
her lips. He knelt down over the child and picked up the small scrap of
parchment. “Oh…fuck this and fuck you.” He grunted, crushing the note in his
fist and tossing it aside. With a look that a man would wear if he were about
to charge into battle, he lifted the child up and took it inside.
Sansa stared at the ruin in shock. She had not expected to find this. There was
supposed to be men lining the walls, Bolton banners flying, pikes shining in
the dull sunlight. Instead? Two scorched bodies and a ruin. “Well. This is
disappointing.” Harrold muttered, though she could tell he was pleased that
they would not have to lay siege with winter so close.
“Who are they? Does anyone know?” Sansa asked, unable to turn her gaze towards
the bodies. Despite everything she had seen, they were too gruesome for her to
look upon; the skin had melted away, crusting around the charred bones. “We’ve
questioned the townsfolk. They haven’t seen the Lord in years. The bigger one
is a man, for sure. Might be the bastard. The other…they said he had two
daughters. Might be one escaped or was dead already. The older villagers said
they were frail things…stupid even.” One of the soldiers told her. Sansa nodded
and felt an odd sensation at the back of her throat. The bastard had had two
daughters. Arya’s children. Sansa felt tears threatening to spill from her
eyes. “Your Grace!” Someone called out. Sansa’s head snapped around and she
blinked the tears away. A sudden hush fell over them and everyone turned to
look towards the gateway to the Godswood, which still stood despite the fire.
Between the archway, a figure could be seen, stumbling towards them. The
soldiers in the yard raised their spears and shields as the figures weary feet
dragged closer. Sansa watched in confusion as a girl no older than fifteen,
appeared out of the smoke. “Your grace, wait…” Her husband began, but she did
not hear him. Sansa moved towards the girl, her gait steady and graceful. The
girl stopped moving when she spotted Sansa approaching her, swaying unsteadily.
For a moment, they stared at one another. The girl never took her ghost grey
eyes away from Sansa’s. Sansa searched, but found no trace of her sister there.
“Who are you?” Sansa asked, her voice sharper than she had intended.
“Vyda Snow.” The girl replied, in a tone just as cutting.
“And do you know what happened here?”
Vyda looked up at the smoking ruin, her gaze never seeming to register the
tragedies she had experienced amongst the walls that had burned to ash.
She turned her gaze back to Sansa. “Yes.” She said. “I know everything.”
                                      ***
“Robb Stark, you come back here this instant!” She yelled, her grip on the rope
tightening as he disappeared over the hill, waving a stick high above his head.

“I want to go too!” Eddard whined, trying to urge his pony faster. Vyda tugged
the rope hard, pulling him back to her side. “You will do no such thing Eddard
Stark. Your mother ordered me to watch you all while we were out and that is
just what I intend to do. Robb Stark, if you do not come back here right now I
will inform your Lady mother and she will make sure that you are put on a lead
next time!” She called after the distant figure.
“Oh, leave him be Vyda. We’re quite safe here. Robb and I are allowed out all
the time. It’s only because we have Ned with us.” Little Catelyn laughed,
trotting up beside her. Vyda sighed and resigned herself to constantly worrying
that the young Prince would fall from his horse somewhere out of sight. Well so
be it. He could die just fine by himself.
I shouldn’t think such things.
She did not truly mean them of course. She had grown fond of her charges;
Prince Robb, as wild as the land he was destined to rule, Princess Catelyn,
always minding her courtesies but quite happy to keep up with her elder brother
the moment their mothers’ back was turned, and little Prince Eddard, who just
wanted to keep up with them both. Vyda had been there for each birth. She had
been the one to hold Queen Sansa’s hand as they’d each been pulled into the
world, red faced and squalling. It had not been for the honour Sansa had chosen
her, it had been because she knew Vyda would not break easily. Sadly, Vyda
could not say the same for her hands.
Queen Sansa had kept her close these past twelve years. When Vyda was not
caring for the children, Sansa kept her as a companion of sorts. Everyone loved
Vyda’s tales. She had so many. The children loved the tales she told of the
brave fisherman who was shipwrecked on a far away island. On that island lived
a cruel King, the cruelest King that ever lived, with skin as cold as snow and
eyes as sharp as ice. He lived there with his wife, a maid who had once been
the servant of summer, but whose skin was now as pale as her husbands and whose
heart had shattered into a million shards of ice. Prince Robb and Prince Eddard
would cheer and mimick the fight between the fisherman and the King of winter,
while Princess Catelyn would gush over the love that slowly blossomed between
the fisherman and the maid.
Queen Sansa preferred tales of truth.
Vyda had never married. She was not yet too old, but the prospect had never
appealed to her. Her heart was not hers to give; it belonged to another, and
always had.
Her heart was buried in an unmarked grave deep within the Wolfswood.
Besides, she doubted she could have married even if she’d desired it. The words
were never spoken allowed, but Sansa made little secret of her intentions. Vyda
Snow was a servant to House Stark now. Nothing more, nothing less. She was
treated well. But it would snow in Dorne before Sansa would allow her to
further the Bolton line.
House Bolton would die when she did.
Or so she led Sansa to believe.
With her focus fully concentrated on the thickening trees of the Wolfswood
around them, she did not notice anything was amiss until Catelyn shouted at
her. Vyda snapped her head around to look towards the spot where Robb had been
only a few moments ago. Now there was only an empty bend in the road. “Get back
here you little bastard!” Came a shout from beyond the bend. Vyda threw the
rope that held Eddard’s pony towards Catelyn and urged her horse forward. “Wait
here!” She shouted as she went. Her horse was not the fastest. Vyda was a
better rider than she had been, but she suspected Queen Sansa did not want her
riding about on a fast paced horse that was easy to escape on. Not that she
ever would.
When Vyda rounded the bend, her heart stopped. Robb was lying face down on the
ground, coughing and spluttering, clearly winded. His horse was a little way
off in the trees. Vyda flung herself out of the saddle and ran to him. “Robb!”
She cried, collapsing to her knees beside him. “Robb, are you alright?” She
rolled the body over so she could see if his eyes were open.
They were, but they were not the bright blue shade they had been before.
The eyes she stared down into now were grey. A pale grey, like two chips of
ice. Yet there was a warmth to them too. A kindness that she recognised and
that tugged at the heart she had forgotten she had…
“Derren? What you doing, you little twat? What have I told you about wandering
off like…” The old man trailed off when he caught sight of her. The past twelve
years had not been kind to him. No doubt the harsh winter that had passed and
caring for a child he had not expected had taken their toll. His back was
twisted, his gait stiff and slow. Yet he had clearly been trying to reach the
boy as quickly as he could. “Damon?” Vyda gasped, unable to keep the name back.
Damon stared at her as though he had seen a ghost. Beside her, Derren struggled
up onto his elbows. The boy stared sullenly at Damon, hardly seeming to notice
her at all. “M’lady…” He croaked, swallowing down a cough. She knew for certain
they were not tears, for Damon eyed her fearfully. Vyda couldn’t help but
notice the way he slowly inched his way forward towards Derren. “Come here,
boy.” He growled. Derren obeyed immediately and shuffled over to his father,
head bowed submissively. Damon grabbed him by the shoulders, drawing him close
protectively. Vyda stood up, her eyes fixated on the child. “Father? Father,
who is this?” The boy asked in a high, care-free tone.
“No one, lad. Best we be going.” Damon clutched the small shoulders tighter and
began to lead the boy away.
“Vyda! Vyda, look what I got!” She turned to see Robb leading his horse towards
her, a rabbit swinging from his hand. He held it up for her to see. “Look! I
shot it myself.” He announced proudly.
“A fine shot, my Prince. Your father will be pleased.” Vyda forced herself to
smile at the boy. She turned to look back at Damon, whose brow was furrowed in
confusion, his gaze switching from her, to Robb, and back again. Finally, his
tired brain caught up. “My Prince.” He more fell to his knees than he did
kneel, but he bowed his head gracefully. Derren stood there, confused. “Kneel.”
Damon barked, pulling the boy onto his knees. “Forgive him, your grace. He is a
simple lad. Doesn’t know his courtesies.” Damon informed, not looking up,
though Vyda sensed it was more through fear of her than respect.
“It’s quite alright. Not everyone does. Vyda doesn’t. My sister says she
should, but we see Vyda everyday. Her knees would get awfully tired.” Robb’s
voice was full of laughter. Before Vyda could call him back, he had walked over
to Derren and was standing above him. “Rise.” Robb ordered gently. Derren did
as he was bid. “What is your name?”
“Derren…my Prince.” He did not lift his head. Vyda could see he trembled
slightly. She forced herself to remain where she stood. “And this is your
father?” Derren’s nod was immediate. “Do you like horses Derren?” The Prince
was gone, replaced by a twelve year old boy who wished to make a new friend.
“I think so, my prince.” Derren admitted, eyeing Robb’s horse with anxious
anticipation.
“Vyda, bring Grey Wind to me.” The prince ordered. Vyda obeyed.
As the prince and the bastard petted the horse, Damon hobbled over to Vyda.
Both stood and watched for a moment. “All this time…you’ve been there all this
time?” He croaked. Vyda nodded in reply, though she was not sure if he was
referring to her being a servant of House Stark or a ghost. Damon peered into
the trees. “Best not to dwell in these woods long m’lady. When darkness falls
the shadows walk, and you are no friend of hers.” Vyda shuddered as his
mutterings were carried to her on the breeze.
“Robb, it is time for us to go.” She announced. The prince smiled brightly at
Derren and led his horse away. Vyda followed, though not without one last look
over her shoulder.
That was not the last time she saw Derren.
A few years later, a youth of seventeen arrived at the gates of Winterfell,
inquiring after work that involved horses. King Robb had not forgotten the boy,
and saw that he was put to work in the stables.
Queen Sansa was gone by then. She may have noticed the eyes had she lived to
see them.
No one else noticed. No one else saw that the stableboy and the maid of two and
thirty years had the same set of ghost grey eyes that their father and his
father had had before them.
Even the boy did not see it, she made sure of that. Once again, her time as a
ghost would return to her. She would watch from a distance. But he never saw
her.
House Bolton faded from a memory into a story; one that the old servant of
House Stark would tell the children of Winterfell when the snows drove them
inside, and they begged to hear tales of the mad Lord and his madder daughter.
And the ghost that haunted them.   
Chapter End Notes
     I think that is one of the happiest endings I've ever done...besides
     the extinction of House Bolton, of course...
     Thatnk you very much for reading this! Feel free to comment with your
     thoughts :)
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