The room next door finally went quiet.
The heart-rending "screams," the blood-pumping "struggles," the creaking of the bed that seemed ready to collapse...
It all vanished.
The deathly silence felt like a sharper flaying knife than any sound, scraping Ramsay Snow's nerves inch by inch.
Ramsay still sat against the wall, hugging his knees, like a child abandoned in a corner.
On his handsome, twisted face, a silent grin lingered, looking eerie and grotesque.
He had lost.
His pride, his art, his loyal hound...
Now, they were all playthings in another man's bed, music for another man's ears.
And he, the former hunter, was chained like a dog next door, forced to listen to it all.
Humiliation, rage, jealousy, malice...
Emotions churned in his chest, finally condensing into a bone-chilling cold.
He wanted to kill.
He wanted to kill Lynn.
He wanted to kill that traitorous bitch, Myranda, even more!
He would flay her himself, teach her the price of betraying her master!
Ramsay slowly stood up.
Three hours of waiting. The oil lamp had burned out, leaving only the cold moonlight spilling in, stretching his shadow long across the floor.
Ramsay walked to the door and gripped the cold iron handle.
Click.
A soft sound, and the door opened.
Unlocked?
A beastly glint flashed in Ramsay's eyes.
Negligence?
Or... another trap?
He didn't care anymore.
He just wanted to find that whore and snap her neck with his own hands!
Like a lone wolf prowling in the night, his steps made no sound.
The corridors of Winterfell were empty and silent; the footsteps of patrolling guards faded into the distance.
Everything was going impossibly smoothly.
He knew where Myranda would be.
Right next door, in Lynn's room.
The largest and warmest one.
The door was ajar, warm firelight spilling out.
Ramsay crept closer, peering through the crack.
Lynn wasn't there. Probably dealing with important matters.
There was only one woman in the room.
Myranda.
She had her back to the door, wearing only a loose silk robe.
Her black hair was wet, draped over her shoulders, still dripping water.
She stood before a large full-length mirror, seemingly examining her reflection.
In the mirror, her body, full of wild strength, was covered in bruises.
Those marks, like eerie flowers blooming in the snow, stung Ramsay's eyes!
He gritted his teeth, his chest heaving, barely suppressing the urge to rush in and tear her apart.
But he held back.
He watched Myranda slowly raise her hand, her fingertip gently tracing a red mark on her neck in the reflection.
Then, the corner of her mouth curled into... a smile?
Not the cruel, bloodthirsty smile he knew.
But a... strange smile, tinged with satisfaction and reminiscence?
BOOM—!!!
The last string of sanity in Ramsay's brain snapped!
He kicked the door open and charged in!
"Whore!"
A roar squeezed from the depths of his throat!
Myranda was startled by the sudden intrusion.
She spun around.
Seeing Ramsay's face twisted with rage, a flicker of panic crossed her eyes.
But that panic was quickly replaced by calm.
Myranda didn't even scream.
She simply pulled the silk robe tighter around herself.
"What are you doing here?"
Myranda's voice was calm, as if asking an irrelevant stranger.
That calm infuriated Ramsay more than any scream could!
"What am I doing?"
Ramsay advanced on her step by step.
Mad fire burned in his pale blue eyes.
"I'm here to kill you! You shameless whore!"
"How dare you betray me!"
"Betray?"
Myranda laughed.
A laugh full of self-mockery and sorrow.
"Lord Ramsay, have you forgotten?"
"You personally gifted me to him."
"I am just... following your orders."
"Orders?"
Ramsay grabbed her wrist, his grip threatening to crush her bones.
"When the fuck did I say that?"
Myranda smiled.
"Isn't that what you wanted?"
"And now you deny it."
Ramsay was stunned.
He truly hadn't said that!
Suddenly, a realization struck him.
"Myranda, have you forgotten?!"
"That day, Ned Stark was Lynn in disguise! You saw it with your own eyes!"
"Lynn must have impersonated me, deliberately saying those things to attack me psychologically, trying to turn you into my weakness!!"
"Myranda, I've explained this!"
"If you believe me, run away from Winterfell with me, and I'll forgive everything!"
Myranda smiled.
Run away with Ramsay, then go back to the Dreadfort so he could flay her himself?
She knew Ramsay's methods too well.
This was clearly Ramsay trying to use Lynn's current trust in her to escape.
Once a tool lost its value, the result was obvious.
Thinking this, Myranda laughed self-deprecatingly.
"Ramsay, do you think I don't know that?"
"What good does exposing Lynn do for me?"
"I have no powerful backing, no capital to show off. I'm just a captive trying to survive. I have no choice."
"Now, I am willingly Lynn's personal plaything."
"I was blinded by you before."
"Now I see your true face. Stop trying to control me."
"If you really care about me, please stop pestering me. Let's part ways peacefully."
Hearing this, Ramsay shook with rage.
He couldn't accept that his untouched toy had been claimed by another.
And now, not only did Myranda's body belong to someone else, but her heart had changed too!
This was unacceptable.
"Myranda, you slut!"
"You've wanted to throw yourself at that bastard Lynn for a long time, haven't you? Huh?"
"I tell you, Myranda!"
"Even in death, you are mine alone!"
Slap!
Ramsay backhanded Myranda across the face, trying to regain his dignity as master.
Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.
But she quickly looked up again, staring straight into Ramsay's mad eyes, fearless.
The slap ignited the fire in her heart.
She threw caution to the wind, wanting only to crush Ramsay with words.
"Heh, finally showing your true colors?"
"Yes, I wanted to throw myself at Lynn. I am a slut, the sluttiest woman in the world!"
"I actively welcomed Lynn. Whatever position he wanted, I gave him."
"If he wanted it on the bed, we did it on the bed."
"If he wanted it on the battlements, we'd do it on the battlements."
"Even if countless people watched, I would satisfy Lord Lynn's demands."
"Lord Lynn wanting my body is my greatest honor!"
"I am just... using the methods you taught me to please a new master."
"And, I must say..."
Myranda's lips curled into a vicious smile.
"Lord Lynn... is much better than you."
"He is strong. Much stronger than you."
"He can last over three hours. My legs are still weak."
"But you?"
"Your handmaidens told me you last less than a minute, sometimes not even thirty seconds. Truly pathetic, Lord Ramsay..."
"Laughable, Ramsay..."
Myranda sneered at him, then covered her mouth and giggled...
That sentence branded Ramsay's heart like a red-hot iron!
"Fuck!"
"Shut up!"
Ramsay lost control completely, shoving Myranda to the floor!
"Bitch! I'll show you who your real master is!"
Ramsay acted like a crazed beast.
He wanted to use the most primitive, savage method to re-brand this body as his own!
He wanted to teach her the price of betrayal!
Myranda didn't resist, didn't beg.
She just stared quietly at Ramsay's face, hideous with lust, jealousy, and rage.
In her eyes, there was no love, no fear, only dead coldness, and a trace of... release.
"If you touch me, Lord Lynn will flay you alive. Believe me, Ramsay..."
Ramsay turned a deaf ear. Myranda slowly closed her eyes.
Just then.
BANG—!!!
A massive crash!
The heavy oak door was kicked open violently!
A group of heavily armored Northern soldiers poured in like a tide!
"Ramsay Snow!"
The guard's roar was like thunder over the Trident!
Soldiers pounced like wolves, pinning Ramsay to the ground before he could act!
"Get off me! You bastards!"
Ramsay struggled wildly but couldn't move.
He roared futilely like a mad dog caught in a trap.
Myranda sat up, silently pulling her torn robe around her.
She belonged to Lynn now; she wouldn't let Ramsay get a cheap look.
Even without contact, she didn't want him to see.
She belonged to Lynn alone.
She didn't look at Ramsay again until the end.
Letting his screams and curses fade down the corridor.
...
Winterfell, Lord's Solar.
Lynn sat by the fire, slowly adjusting his clothes.
Roslin stood quietly behind him, refilling his wine.
About time.
Sure enough, moments later, the door opened.
Guards dragged in Ramsay, bound like a pig for slaughter.
"My Lord!"
"This guy... he was in your room, attempting to rape Myranda!"
Lynn didn't look up, focused on wiping his dagger.
Then he raised his eyes to Ramsay, forced to his knees by the soldiers.
His face wore that gentle smile that made Ramsay shudder.
"I just wanted to see what a mad dog does when it slips its chain."
"It seems you are even more of a dog than I thought."
"No, no, no."
"Calling you a dog is an insult to dogs. You're worse than a beast."
"Myranda was casting pearls before swine with you."
"But please, rest assured."
"I will take very good care of Myranda for you."
Ramsay glared at Lynn.
His eyes were bloodshot and filled with malice.
If looks could kill, Lynn would have died a thousand times.
"You demon..."
He squeezed the words through his teeth.
"Thank you."
Lynn smiled, stood up, and walked to Ramsay.
He crouched down to look him in the eye.
"You know, Ramsay?"
"Your filthy thoughts about Myrcella, Arya, and Sansa... I know them all."
Ramsay shook all over.
What?
Lynn heard my muttering?
There was no one around!
How did Lynn know?
Damn it! Why?
Lynn's gaze swept over Ramsay's lower body, turning cold.
"I hate it when people touch my things."
"Especially... my women."
"Not just Myrcella and the others."
"Although Myranda doesn't count yet, she is a trophy I 'won' from you."
"Trying to touch her is challenging me."
Lynn stood up, looking down at Ramsay.
"I suddenly feel death is too easy for you."
"I've decided to send Roose Bolton a big gift."
Lynn turned to the guards.
"Do you know how they geld hounds in the kennels of the Dreadfort?"
Ramsay's face went white instantly.
"They use a red-hot dull knife, slowly..."
"Enough!"
Ramsay screamed.
Cruel as he was, he didn't want to hear this.
Especially when it was about to happen to him.
Lynn smiled.
He picked up a dagger from the table and handed it to a guard.
"This knife is sharp. It will hurt less. I'm a merciful man."
"Take him for physical sterilization."
"Remember, clean it up. Don't leave even half an inch."
Lynn turned back to the pale Ramsay.
"Ramsay, you deserve this. This is the price for coveting my women!"
Lynn's voice was calm, but it dropped the room's temperature to freezing.
"I want this 'gift' sent whole to the dining table of the Dreadfort."
"I want Roose Bolton to taste his 'grandson' personally."
The blood drained from Ramsay's face completely!
Terror!
A bone-deep terror drowned him!
He could die!
But he couldn't... couldn't become that!
"No... no! You can't do this!"
Ramsay was finally afraid.
He struggled frantically, screaming!
"Kill me! Kill me!"
"I beg you! Kill me!"
However, no one heeded his wails.
Two guards dragged Ramsay out like a dead dog.
"Lynn! You bastard! You'll regret this! I curse you! I curse you to die a horrible death—!!!"
Ramsay's shrieking curse echoed in the corridor, fading away until it vanished completely.
Silence returned to the solar.
Lynn sat back by the fire, picked up his wine, and took a sip.
His face showed no emotion.
As if he had just ordered the disposal of a disobedient pet dog.