Reek's head pounded. He felt suddenly sick. We dipped their heads in tar...
Lord Ramsey scowled. "We are lords of the North now. By the Iron Throne's decree. They are not our friends."
...
Lord Roose stopped in his tracks, cast his gaze over his son. "Sometimes I wonder whether you truly are my seed. Boltons have been many things over the years, but never before have we been fools." He started walking again. "We appear strong for the moment, yes. We have powerful friends in the Lannisters and the Freys. For now, at least."
"For now?"
"The king agreed to name me Warden of the North, but he has thus far failed to approve my request that you be named a Bolton."
Ramsey stood shocked. Shock turned to seething anger. "What?"
Lord Roose's lips parted to reveal a row of white teeth in what some might have called a smile. "Oh, it gets worse," he said. "Lord Stannis has left the Wall. Lord Arnolf tells me he marches west, though he knows not why. Karstark says he laid the perfect bait in the Dreadfort, yet Lord Stannis did not bite."
"Perhaps Karstark is more Stark than he lets on," Ramsey said. "But this is an opportunity. We ought to treat with Lord Stannis. If one king will not grant me my rights then perhaps another might."
"No, you fool," Roose said, emotionless yet exasperated. "Lord Stannis will do no such thing. Grant the North to the man who partook in the Red Wedding? Legitimise the baseborn son of the man who betrayed his liege lord? Do you know nothing? Our power rests in the image of Lannister power and the absence of a Stark for the lords to rally around. Those two things alone are all we have."
"Then what am I supposed to do?" Ramsey asked.
"You are supposed to wait," Roose replied. "Our hold is weak for now, but it can be strengthened. Slay Stannis and the Iron Throne will have no choice but to legitimise you."
"Then give me leave to lead the men and I will bring you his head," Ramsey almost begged.
"Stannis is with his army," Roose said. "Exhausted and depleted as my men are by a long campaign in the south, we would be fools to advance on him now. No. We must bring him to us. Build a trap, then lure him in."
"I thought we already tried that," Ramsey retorted.
"This time with bait he can't ignore. Winterfell."
Ramsey licked his lips, a sour look on his face. "I laid waste to that place. It's a ruin now."
"No, the ironmen laid waste to it," Roose insisted. "And in ruins it may be, but it is still the heart of the North. We should move our seat there. If I am right, Stannis will seek to gather support from the northern lords. We cannot allow that to happen. So we have to hurry him. If it seems as though we are tightening our hold, he will have no choice but to march. After all, if we can properly entrench ourselves then Stannis will be forced into a full war to remove us. He cannot afford that, not if he has any intention of taking the throne. Thus, a speedy war will be in his interest, to be able to capture the North before winter comes and march south before the Lannisters can entrench. One decisive victory won with overwhelming force. That will be Lord Stannis's plan. When he marches he will call his allies to come with him. All of them. Our friend Lord Arnolf Karstark included. Understand?"
Ramsey nodded reluctantly, jaw tight with rage at being rebuffed.
"Now go," Roose said. "And leave your pet with me. I'll have him."
"You'll have him?" Ramsey asked, indignant. "He's mine!"
"All that's yours is yours at my behest, boy. You best remember that. Now go. If you have not ruined him, he may yet serve some use."
Ramsey shot Reek a poisonous look before he let go of his leash and went back to rejoin the van. Reek felt like crying. Pain, that look had promised him.
Roose watched Ramsey walk away. "Tell me, does he truly think he can ever rule the North?"
"He fights for you, my lord," Reek blurted out, panicked. "He's strong."
"A bull is strong," Roose said, "but that does not save it from slaughter. I have seen him fight in the yard. He's ferocious, I'll grant, but not fearsome. He swings his sword like he's hacking meat."
"He's not afraid of anyone, my lord."
"He should be. Fear keeps you alive. Forces you to think. You should tell him that, next time you see him."
"To... To be afraid?" Reek felt a bolt of terror shoot through him. "My lord... If I do that... He'll..."
"I know, I know," Roose said dismissively. "His blood is bad. He has no temper. This rage, it is unbecoming of him. But I have no other choice. I had another boy, once. Domeric. A quiet boy, but most accomplished. A deft hand in the yard. Alas, he thought himself a man, desired a brother, and disobeyed me when I warned him against seeking out my bastard. A sickness of the bowels, the maester said. I say poison. And I don't think I have to tell you who I suspect for the crime."
"Lord Ramsey..." This felt dangerous, this discussion. As though Lord Roose was about to ask him to betray Lord Ramsey.
Roose nodded. "I have a new wife, now. A fat Frey one. Young, too. She has a fertile stench. I'm fond of it. But I expect Ramsey will see to any babes I sire upon her before long. My new wife may well weep to see them die, but I will not. I couldn't stop him even if I tried. Legitimised or not, he is my heir. My only heir. And I'd sooner leave my house to a bastard than a babe. Boy lords have been the bane of many a house in the past. It leaves them weak."
Reek nodded, his throat dry. He could hear the wind blustering off the leaves of the wood nearby. "My lord..." Reek licked his lips. "Why did you ask for me to stay?"
"Theon, yes?"
Reek felt his eyes widen, bowed his head, trembling with terror. "No, my lord. I'm Reek, just Reek."
"Yet you address me as my lord. Your betray your highborn heritage with your tongue. A peasant might say m'lord, as though it were one word."
"I'm Reek, m'lord. Reek. Please. I'm not the Turncloak. He died at Winterfell. I'm no highborn. I am not even a man. I am a worm. Just a worm, a quiet little worm."
"I mean you no harm, you know," Roose said patiently. "I owe you much and more. The Starks were done and doomed the moment you took Winterfell. All the rest of this is just squabbling over spoils. But you did the deed, Reek."
Reek stood silent, head bowed, shivering, unsure of what to say.
Roose stopped walking, observed Reek. "You helped me once, by taking Winterfell. Now you will help me again. And if you do, then I will help you."
"M'lord?" This is a trick, he thought. Lord Roose plays with you. The son is the shadow of the father. Lord Ramsay toyed with his hopes all the time, giving him respite one moment only to rip it away the next.
"Lord Stannis thinks to flank me from the west. Lord Wyman plots in the east. The Lannisters threaten to break faith with me in the south. On all sides, my enemies rear their heads..." Lord Roose looked Reek up and down. "You're too thin, too weak for war. Yet I hear you broke the siege as envoy, convinced the Ironborn to come willingly to terms, to their deaths. Is this true?"
Reek nodded hesitantly. "It is, m'lord."
"Good." Roose's eyes shone. "Then I might well have a reason to keep you from Ramsey."
...
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