Bolton Rising Part 54 - Ramsay

The first time a guard became careless around him, Ramsay wasted no time making his move. The Bastard of Bolton showed everyone why he was to be feared and given respect, if nothing else, out of fear of being butchered and skinned like an animal. Ramsay had somehow lured the inexperienced guard into his cell, blocked the door and flayed the man in front of his comrades who were forced to watch the brutal display through a two-way mirror. Bolton smiled through the whole bloody procedure, using the guard's own knife to strip layers of flesh off as the man gave horrifying screams. After that, no one entered Ramsay's cell, not even to retrieve the body of their fallen friend, who was now a macabre display seated upon a chair, staring with lifeless eyes towards the mirror.

"Was this really necessary, bastard?" Roose Bolton, his father, questioned upon entering the cell with a look of contempt.

"I was bored. You didn't leave me anything to play with," Ramsay replied with a clipped tone, locking pale eyes with the man who had sired him. "It's time you released me old man, I got shit to do. A simple phone call would have sufficed to get my attention, instead of flexing your power."

Roose showed no emotion upon his face, looking equally undisturbed by his son's sadistic nature. "Come inside now and remove this," he ordered a pair of soldiers, who quickly stepped inside and dragged the corpse away before addressing Ramsay again. "You overstepped your boundaries attacking that hospital. I've always told you to keep your affairs discreet, Ramsay. This feud you have going on with Petyr Baelish can't involve the public. You have threatened both our positions."

Ramsay laughed deeply, still holding onto the sharp knife he had stolen. "Since when does Littlefinger control your leash, father? I know it was him who sent your men to attack my compound! I lost several of my own Bastard Boys thanks to that devious asshole."

"Don't direct your anger at me like a spoiled child. I've protected you long enough. My business arrangements with the Mockingbird are not your concern either, bastard," Roose replied, tossing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter upon the table in the room. "A small gift, though I don't see why I should give you anything after what you did to that man."

"Because you need to pacify me before I do it again." Ramsay smirked, lighting one up, blowing smoke rings at his father. "I want to go home."

"Perhaps after the wedding." His father waved his hand to clear the air around his face with growing annoyance.

Ramsay narrowed his eyes with suspicion. "I'm not marrying anyone. Did you already forget what I did to that fiancée you forced upon me?"

"You?" Roose chuckled with a rare flash of genuine amusement. "Gods, if I ever live to see that day." He smirked, shaking his head, dismissing the ludicrous idea. "No, bastard, I have a new young bride from the Frey family. Their family fortune will add nicely to my own and hopefully Walda will bless me with a true heir to inherit the Bolton name. I can't depend on you, a Snow, to ever carry on my family's legacy."

Ramsay listened to his father's words carefully, the sound of blood rushing through his ears as a blinding rage filled him from head to toe. The next moment he was upon his father, slashing at Roose, screaming his long held fury and letting the blade seek retribution for being treated like a nothing. Always scorned by the man who should have loved him, Ramsay sought vengeance for Roose abusing his mother and discarding them both into the wind.

"I will kill you, that fat bitch and any heirs!" Ramsay threatened before soldiers dragged him off, beating him unconscious with their rifles as Roose staggered to his feet, his face scarred and bleeding profusely. "Get that animal down to the labs and keep him locked up for good! He won't ever see the light of day again."