Bolton Rising - Part 36 - Ramsay & Arya/Jeyne

Ramsay chased after Arya like one of his rabid dogs, cornering the frightened creature inside the bathroom, where he now stood outside the locked door. He had already smashed down the bedroom door, the shattered slab of wood hanging off it's hinges in ruins from the Bastard's dark fury. Those icy blue eyes glared at the current blockade, listening to Arya's despondent weeping and silent disobedience as she refused to open the door at his command.

Arya crouched in the corner of the bathroom, consumed with terror. She listened as Ramsay kicked his way through the bedroom door, the hard wood cracking and splintering, then giving way with a final crash. She did not scream, her prey instinct seemed to take hold of her and she curled up, making herself very small, sobbing quietly. Ramsay stomped across the master bedroom, pausing outside of the bathroom door and Arya nearly lost control of her bodily functions, her fear was so great. Her whole body trembled uncontrollably and her teeth began to chatter. She knew what would come next. The door would come down and he would kill her. Had this moment always been inevitable? Could anyone survive here with him, without eventually angering him enough to cause him to snap?

Bolton should have just grabbed an axe and chopped his way inside, perhaps hacked his new pretty pet to pieces too. He could paint the walls red in there with her innocent blood. That's what the darkness in his soul demanded. Justice for another betrayal. But the longer Ramsay stood outside and just listened to Arya's pathetic crying, the more his anger slowly seemed to dissipate to a clear minded level.  He enjoyed Arya too much to let her go now. With her around, the bitterness he felt over Melly's loss had all been but an echo till tonight. Ramsay's jealous nature had reared it's ugly head once again, dangerous and unstable, but cunning and clever too.

Oh... he was still angry alright, but it had less to do with his pet and more with the turn of events that had occurred between Gregor and himself tonight.  Perhaps their friendship was truly over now and that thought alone was bothering Ramsay more then he'd ever imagined it would. In addition,  he wasn't thrilled that Arya had witnessed the entire spectacle, especially the threats and manhandling by the Mountain. It had made Ramsay look weak in front of her and that was more than enough to set his rage into overdrive.

The quiet was the worst part. 'Let him break the door down, let him kill me...' The waiting was pure agony, however she could do nothing else but wait. Fear had frozen her into this corner, and she could not force herself to move. If only she could rise, crawl to the door, open it... then Ramsay would kill her and it would all be over. The fear. The pain. 'Oh, the pain...' She thought, the pain was worse than any she had felt before. The scene she'd witnessed tonight, that had hurt her more than any physical punishment she had ever endured. He didn't love her. She had thought... hoped... but he didn't love her. She had been so stupid to think that he was growing to care for her.

The Bastard of Bolton sighed, inhaling a breath deeply, and rested a bloody palm against the door. "Arya... I don't care if you stay in there all night. But eventually, you will come out and face your punishment or I will set fire to this whole fucking room and smoke you out." He spoke calmly but with a steel laced tone, leaving his pet alone and wrapping a towel around his injured hand, before settling down onto bed. 'Damn asshole didn't have to choke me so hard. He had a good fucking time too!' Ramsay thought as he laid down and stared up at the canopy ceiling, rubbing his stiff sore neck. 'I will make things right... somehow.' He closed  his pale eyes and eventually sleep came to his  troubled mind, the Bastard of Bolton drifting off.

He spoke... he wanted her to open the door. Arya knew this would be the end, but in spite of her fear, she knew she must obey him. He was her Master. To disobey would result in punishment, and she had disobeyed him terribly, already. The longer she waited, the worse it would go for her. She struggled to move to the door, slowly she began to flex her limbs, willing herself to move, to face her Master and her punishment.

Little by little, she crawled across the dark room. The tiles cold and hard beneath her hands and knees, her body stiff from curling up for so long, Arya couldn't  hear a sound. The bedroom was quiet, she did not know if Ramsay was even still there. She reached up to turn the lock, the doorknob twisting easily, surprising her, she'd expected it to take all of her strength to turn the knob. The door swung open and moonlight illuminated the room. Arya could see Ramsay stretched out on the bed. She couldn't tell whether he was asleep or awake, but he remained still, his breathing steady as she hesitated, cowering in the doorway. Slowly, haltingly, she moved across the hardwood floorboards, then onto the carpet that surrounded the bed. Kneeling beside him, shaking, she whispered, "Ramsay..."

"Come to bed pet. It's late." Ramsay replied in a dreamy whisper, reaching out to cup Arya's tear stained cheek, before lifting the bed covers and inviting her closer. The Bastard's half-lidded eyes were clear of any anger but full of wariness, spooning against his shivering pet and wrapping his arms around her. "No harm will come to you girl. Rest." He spoke softly against her neck, kissing that fragile skin and cupping a breast possessively, letting sleep take him again.