The depths of Winterfell's dungeons.
The cell that once held Ramsay Snow was now empty.
Ramsay's new residence was an abandoned kennel in a corner of the castle.
It was dark, never seeing sunlight.
The air permanently reeked of old dog musk mixed with rotting straw.
Ramsay was curled up in the deepest corner of this kennel.
He wore tattered linen rags, stained with mud and unidentifiable filth.
His once meticulously groomed hair now looked like a clump of dirty weeds plastered to his forehead.
His face was clean, scrubbed roughly with cold water by someone.
But those pale blue eyes had completely lost their former spark.
They were cloudy, empty.
Like two dusty glass marbles.
A few days ago, the "surgery" performed on a cold stone slab had taken the last bit of "manhood" from him.
He was no longer the elegant hunter who flayed men for sport.
Now, he was just... Reek.
A lowly, mutilated creature unworthy of even a name.
His daily job was to clean all the kennels in Winterfell.
Using his bare hands to scrape away the hounds' filth bit by bit.
Even the hunting dogs used by the castle snarled and growled at him now.
Dogs are bullies; they attack the weak.
They could smell the fear and humiliation on him.
Ramsay's status was now so low that even the dogs felt superior.
Ramsay never resisted, never spoke.
He just silently did his work, silently enduring the beatings from the guards and the provocation from the hounds.
For a tiny, insignificant reward...
Like a piece of moldy bread or a bowl of rancid broth... he would kneel in gratitude, kissing the benefactor's boots.
He looked completely broken.
Like a wild dog with a broken spine, capable of nothing but wagging its tail and begging.
Creak—
The heavy wooden door of the kennel was pushed open.
Blinding sunlight flooded in, making Ramsay, accustomed to the dark, squint instinctively.
Two figures, one tall, one shorter, walked in slowly against the light.
When he saw who they were, Ramsay's numb body jerked violently.
It was Lynn.
And... Myranda.
Ramsay's pupils contracted sharply, his breath stopping for an instant.
Myranda had changed.
She was no longer the leather-clad, fierce huntress.
She wore an exquisite handmaiden's dress.
Dark grey velvet perfectly outlined the powerful curves of her body.
Her hair was neatly combed, tied back with a silver ribbon, exposing her smooth neck.
She even wore light makeup.
Those eyes, once fierce as a wolf's, were now covered by a veneer of meekness.
She followed quietly behind Lynn, half a step back, her posture respectful, like a possession belonging solely to her master.
Seeing the figure curled in the corner, reeking of filth, Myranda's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
She subconsciously leaned closer to Lynn, her hand gently taking his arm.
As if only this could shield her from the offensive smell.
This subtle movement was like a red-hot needle stabbing straight into Ramsay's eye!
His body began to shake uncontrollably.
He remembered that night, the "screams" and "moans" belonging to this woman coming from the room next door, driving him to the brink of madness.
And now, she dared to appear before him like this!
A volcanic rage threatened to erupt from his chest!
But he held it back.
He slammed his head down, burying his face deep between his knees, curling tighter into himself.
He was afraid.
He wanted them to see that he was afraid.
"Look up."
Lynn's voice rang out.
Ramsay shook even harder.
"I said, look up!"
Ramsay hesitated for a long time before slowly, like a puppet on strings, raising a face filled with humiliation and fear.
"Lord... Lynn..."
Ramsay's voice was dry, full of abject fawning.
"I... I cleaned the kennels... very clean..."
He didn't even dare look at Lynn, only stealing a quick glance at Myranda beside him.
Then, as if burned, he quickly looked away.
"Is that so?"
A strange smile curled on Lynn's lips.
"It seems you like your new job."
"Like... I like it..."
Ramsay nodded furiously, squeezing out a smile uglier than crying.
"Thank you, My Lord... thank you for giving me this chance..."
Myranda looked at him, groveling in the dust, a flash of cold satisfaction in her beautiful eyes.
Clearly, this petty woman still held a grudge over the slap Ramsay had given her.
Myranda released Lynn's arm and took two steps forward, looking down at the man she had once loved to madness and hated to the bone.
"Lord Lynn,"
Myranda's voice was soft, carrying a trace of victor's pity.
"He smells too bad."
"The stench will offend you."
Myranda's cheeks flushed slightly. She gritted her teeth, pulled a handkerchief embroidered with delicate flowers from her bosom, and offered it to Lynn.
"This smells nice. My Lord can use it to block Ramsay's stench..."
Lynn took it, covered his nose, and watched this silent struggle with interest.
Truth be told, Ramsay really did stink.
With Myranda's personal cloth, it was much better...
Listening to Myranda, Ramsay's body went rigid.
He slowly raised his head.
In his empty eyes, a flicker of emotion finally appeared.
Pleading.
He was pleading with Myranda silently with his eyes.
Begging her to stop.
Begging her, for the sake of the past, to leave him a shred of pitiful dignity.
However, Myranda had seen through him and just stared coldly at Ramsay.
"Why are you still alive?"
Myranda's voice was a dagger, stabbing precisely into Ramsay's heart.
"A waste like you, a Reek who isn't even a man anymore, why don't you just die?"
"You're alive just to waste Winterfell's food and pollute the air."
Reek!
Waste!
Die!
Every word turned into the most vicious curse, smashing onto Ramsay's soul.
He couldn't pretend anymore.
"Ah..."
A roar filled with extreme pain and malice squeezed out of his throat.
He jerked his head up.
Those pale blue eyes were instantly flooded with blood!
He glared death at Myranda.
That look wanted to swallow her whole and flay her alive!
"Whore... you damn whore..."
He wanted to lunge, to snap her slender neck, to tear apart her pretty face!
But his body felt nailed to the spot, unable to move.
Because Lynn's gaze was now on him.
That gaze was calm, devoid of emotion.
But Ramsay felt like he was being stared at by an ancient dragon. A terror from the depths of his soul froze his blood instantly, extinguishing all his rage.
Can't get angry!
Lynn must be testing me!
Can't show any weakness!
The madness and malice in Ramsay's eyes faded rapidly.
Replaced by a deeper, thicker fear.
Thud.
Ramsay dropped straight to his knees.
"My Lord... mercy... Lady Myranda... mercy..."
"I was wrong... I was wrong... I am just a dog... I am just Reek..."
"Please... don't kill me... I'll do anything..."
This made him look even more wretched, more pitiful.
Looking at him like this, the thrill of revenge in Myranda's heart wasn't as strong as she imagined.
Instead, a trace of... disgust rose.
This was the man she once loved?
A coward who only wagged his tail before the strong and tyrannized the weak.
She felt even looking at him was an insult to herself.
Myranda turned back to Lynn's side, her face returning to that submissive, respectful expression.
"My Lord, let's go."
"It's too dirty here."
Lynn didn't answer immediately.
His gaze remained on the figure still begging ceaselessly.
He knew, of course, that this was all an act by Ramsay.
This man was a mad dog to the bone.
Lynn had zero sympathy for someone so treacherous and prone to backstabbing.
Today, Lynn won.
But what if he lost?
Ramsay would have tortured Arya and his other women in unimaginable ways!
Sympathizing with such an enemy was the biggest mistake!
Every bow, every plea from Ramsay was just accumulating strength for the next bite at his master.
The more humble he was now, the deeper the hatred in his heart!
But this was exactly the effect Lynn wanted.
A dog that only knows how to beg is useless.
Only a mad dog filled with hatred, yet forced to offer loyalty, is the best weapon.
He wanted to use Ramsay's hand to legitimately turn the Dreadfort into history, and incidentally make Ramsay pay a painful price!
"Alright."
Lynn spoke lightly.
Ramsay looked at Lynn with eyes full of hope and terror.
"I see your loyalty."
A gentle smile appeared on Lynn's face.
"I've decided to give you a new job."
"From today on, you don't have to clean the kennels anymore."
Hearing this, a gleam of ecstasy exploded in Ramsay's eyes.
He thought his performance finally moved this demon.
He thought he could finally escape this hell.
"You will be my personal servant."
Lynn's next words froze the ecstasy on Ramsay's face instantly.
Personal... servant?
"You will be responsible for my daily needs, pouring my wine."
Lynn's gaze swept over Ramsay's missing lower parts, his smile deepening with meaning.
"A servant with no threat is always the most reassuring to use, isn't he?"
"Of course, you must also serve Myranda."
Lynn reached out and gently put his arm around Myranda's waist.
Myranda stiffened slightly but quickly relaxed, leaning obediently into Lynn's embrace.
"She is now your mistress too."
"Whatever she tells you to do, you must do."
"Even if she tells you to eat dog food, you eat it."
"Just like... a most loyal dog."
"Do you understand?"
BOOM—!!!
Ramsay's mind went blank.
Serve the whore who betrayed him?
Watch her and Lynn with his own eyes...
NO!!!
This was worse than killing him!
"What?"
Lynn raised an eyebrow.
"Unwilling?"
"No... no... I am willing... I am very willing!"
The instinct to survive crushed everything else.
Ramsay almost screamed the words.
He knew if he dared say "no," his head would be on the walls of Winterfell in the next second.
He had to live!
He must live!
As long as he was alive, he had a chance!
He wanted to watch this couple die in front of him!
He wanted to wash away all his humiliation with their blood!
"Good."
Lynn nodded with satisfaction.
He let go of Myranda and turned to walk out of the kennel.
"Follow me, my... Reek."
"From now on, that is your new name."
Ramsay... no, Reek.
He crawled up from the ground, following Lynn on hands and knees like a real dog.
As he passed Myranda, her foot lifted slightly, then lowered.
As if she wanted to kick him but held back.
Myranda just swept him with a gaze of utter contempt.
She felt she should advise Lynn. Even with guards watching him 24/7, keeping a scourge like Ramsay alive was a hidden danger.
Killing Ramsay was the best choice.
Thinking this, Myranda followed Lynn without looking back.
Darkness and silence returned to the kennel.
Only a patch of fresh blood on the ground silently told the story of what had just happened.
And the scent of humiliation and hatred was thicker than ever.