CHAPTER 41 | LOYAL BEASTS

BOLTON flags cascaded to the snowy ground. Stark banners clung to the walls outside of Winterfell, wind blowing the old wrinkles away. Gore and ice covered the ground, making it easy to slip and fall. Bolton soldiers were forced out to make room for the rest of the Stark army.

Melisandre stood high on the second level of the castle, not knowing that she was being watched by Ser Davos, who tossed an important object in between his hands. She watched two men approach Jon before her eyes connected to Maia's below. She nodded towards the younger woman, pleased with the result of the battle.

Jon glanced down at the rotting corpse of his brother. Rickon's body lay lifeless, an arrow plunged through his chest. Tormund waited for orders as he held the body with his grimy fingers. "I'm going to be bury my brother in the Crypt." Jon muttered. "Next to my father." The men nodded before leaving.

Maia stepped in the direction of Jon's footsteps, watching him cringe with each stride from the blood that laced within the soil at his feet. Instantly, Jon wrapped his arms around her, both of them not caring as the dirt from his clothing stained her dress. He had never hugged her so tightly in his life, and enjoyed the feeling of her hands smoothing out his hair. He smelt of death – of gore and muck – but she held him, and endured the sickly feeling in her stomach while knowing someone else's blood was now on her.

She leaned away, using her digits to wipe away the dirt that coated his face like a mask. Both were silent, except for the sound of their breathing, as they stared at each other. It was difficult to remove, but after a few moments, Maia finally caught a glimpse of her lover's true face – the features of a man who was not a blood-thirsty monster in battle. She laid her forehead on his, whispering, "I love you."

"Jon."

The two looked up, suddenly releasing each other of their hold as they saw Sansa standing behind. Jon sighed, running a hand through his hair. Everyone knew the question she vowed to ask.

Sansa glowered towards her brother. "Where is he?"

•••

Maia requested to follow Sansa into the ruins of Winterfell. The red-head figured with the experience she had with the famous Bolton leader, she deserved to see what she had planned.

Sansa opened a rusty gate for them to watch through, leading Maia to approach an old seller-like space. Torches around the vault lit up around them, highlighting their feminine features. The room was bolted by old locks, and the blonde found herself peering inside because it was so dark. She couldn't tell what Sansa wanted to show her, until she heard a low groan, and finally, a pair of light eyes were staring at her.

Maia gaped for a second at the sight of bloodied Ramsay. He had been tied to a chair, thick ropes rolled around his wrists and ankles. It was like looking at a scene from an old-fashioned horror movie.

Ramsay cleared his throat from dust. "Sansa. Hello, Sansa," he murmured, drawing out her name. His eyes slid to the other woman behind the metal gate. "Maia."

His mouth – that of which was wounded from rocks and gravel being thrown in his face – almost smirked at the view of the two females. "Is this where I'll be staying now?"

The silence was deafening as they stared at him, their gazes never wavering. Maia's glare could haunt nightmares, scare children, slice through any man – and even Ramsay didn't want to look at her. He swallowed, leaning back in his seat as he shook his head. "No," he muttered, before casting his vision towards them again. "Our time together is about to come to an end. That's all."

Ramsay's face twisted, his eyes forming into slits when the women didn't speak. "You can't kill me. I'm part of you now – both of you. Every person I hold, everyone person that crosses my path – I become an imprint on their life."

"Your words will disappear." Sansa spat, taking a moment to pause. "Your house will disappear. Your name will disappear. All memory of you will disappear."

Maia's eyes glowered, staring daggers at him. "If there is ever a word to be said, they will only speak of you as the Bolton bastard who lost Winterfell."

A low grumble resonated from the side, and it clearly wasn't Ramsay. It was a sound more animal-like, more hungry. Paws thumped against the soil below. The growls grew louder as large hounds emerged form each corner of the room, heading towards Ramsay. Maia recognized them as the dogs he always boasted about.

Ramsay turned to look at the two females. "My hounds will never harm me."

"You haven't fed them in seven days. You said it yourself." Sansa replied.

He felt the bile rising in his throat. "They're loyal beasts."

"They were," she agreed. "Now they're starving."

Suddenly, one of the hounds pounced on Ramsay's lap, staring at his former master with thirsty eyes. The dogs around him tried to push the other out of the way, forcing their way to get to a meal. Spit oozed from the dog's mouth as it began to sniff the blood off Ramsay's skin. "Sit," he hissed. "Down!"

The hound's breath grew heavier as he licked his mouth, staring at his dinner. "Down!" Ramsay repeated.

"Remember, Ramsay," Maia then whispered, "wolves and girls both have sharp teeth."

With one last moment of hunger, the dog lunged forward, ripping the skin off his mouth. It bit down on his jaw, tearing the muscle away and leaving blood to spew everywhere. The former lord screamed for mercy as each hound tackled him, hoping to get their own piece of meat. Ramsay's fingers shook as blood coated his clothes down to his toes. Howls echoed amongst the catacomb.

Maia had never seen something so gory before. She remembered the first time she watched a horror movie with her friends: they watched Saw when she was thirteen, but Maia was too afraid to look at most of the scenes. At this moment, she stared as Ramsay's own dogs chewed half of his face off, and took pleasure in seeing his guts thrown on the floor, only to be fought over by the animals. The former feeling of his hands on her chest vanished. She hadn't been through the same experience as Sansa at all, but both girls had the same amount of satisfaction welling up inside of them.

She remembered the way he grabbed the back of her head to suck his cock – almost as if she could feel his fingers weave themselves into her tangled hair. She remembered how his hands had ripped through the seems of her dress, only to smother them against the warmth of her bare breast. She remembered his letter: You will watch as I rape your supposed lady you've been keeping in Castle Black. Look who was watching now.

Sansa placed a hand on Maia's shoulder, guiding them away from the scene. The red-head's arm hung around her frame as they walked, and when Maia finally looked over, she saw the glimpse of a smile on Sansa's face.