Kapitel 25: Melody
Chapter Twenty-six
Melody
It hadn't taken long for the servant to appear with another two that ushered in a chair designed to lean back specifically for shaving. Ramsay's blood ran cold to see the one holding the basket of shaving supplies was none other than the scullery maid that often attended his needs in the morning times bringing him changes of clothes, buckets of water for washing, and that crooked smile that he'd grown to loathe as a sign of mockery.
Ramsay didn't know it, but the maid's smile was not born of contempt but of a sense of displaced nerves. She, Melody Brent, had been quite terrified of Ramsay, having heard well of his reputation and observed the corpses littering the courtyard, flayed of their skin and placed on display as a statement that it was more than unwise to displease the bastard of Bolton. Melody's mother had served House Stark in the fledgling years of her life but had retired to live on their own homestead when their father had earned enough coin to buy a meager plot of land in a province that lay on the outskirts of the White Knife River. Her mother had taken ill herself in the spring, and Melody had to take up the mantle of sole provider for the two of them. She had had three other siblings, but like her father, when a particular bout of illness had swept through their quaint village, it had taken the lives of all but Melody and her mother.
Forced off of their land by the new levied taxes the Boltons had enforced they pay, Melody's mother had no other choice than to sell the land for the owed taxes and seek out employment from the new lord of Winterfell, Roose Bolton. The two were granted room and board with nicer accommodations for servants due to her mother's prior experience at the Stark keep. Weak as she became, Melody's mother still pushed herself working from sunup to sundown helping to direct the staff and washing endless loads of linens to prove her worth and keep their private room within the castle's walls. Melody was seventeen then, and knowing the reputation of the Boltons, her mother had managed to get her assigned to jobs in the kitchens and areas of the castle where she was markedly safer from possible assault. Melody was a plain girl, but she was not unattractive, and her mother often feared for her safety not just from the likes of Ramsay but from all men.
Her mother had created a jagged fear within Melody of the horrors this castle could deliver and of men and their propensity for wickedness towards women. It wasn't hard to assume the worst with the rampant speculations that echoed about the keep, and when her mother, still carrying a lingering cough from the village, had passed at the onset of the fall, Melody would have gone anywhere else had she the ability, but where was she to go?
Her mother's body was removed from the small room that they had shared to be burned before anymore sickness could spread, and Melody (once it was apparent she was not ill like her mother) had been shifted into another, less accommodating room, to share her living space with three other young maids. No longer sheltered by her mother's weighty contribution to the hold, she was given new tasks that sent her to work empting chamber pots, cleaning fire pits, and changing bed linens. She still worked in the kitchens and had even served the Boltons food on numerous occasions. There were times then that the bastard would look up from his goblet of wine to give her a tawdry smirk, but he'd otherwise given Melody no further notice. One of the girls that she had roomed with, a pretty sort with a graceful stride and cherry lips, wasn't as lucky. That girl used to fill Ramsay's baths in the evenings, but she mysteriously disappeared one night; all that had trailed her disappearance was the bays of Ramsay's dogs howling into the moonlight. The girl was never seen again, and Melody hadn't slept well for many weeks that followed. None of the staff really had.
After the battle on the ridge had proven the Starks to be victorious in reclaiming Winterfell, Melody was relieved beyond words, but as with most of the serving staff was more than puzzled that the Bolton bastard had not been put to death in the first evening or the morning that followed. As time had went on and rumors circled, Melody found herself more and more curious as to what had transpired within the walls of the dungeon.
Often Melody's chores led her to walk past Ramsey's cell, but she'd never been brave enough to pause and look in (mostly due to the lascivious stares that Jove and Reginald would lock on any female that passed by.) Even so, rampant tales mingled about the kitchens staff and the maids alike whom had caught glimpses of Ramsay in his newly reduced state, and having been offended by the man at one juncture or another, most seemed to thoroughly enjoy his plight; (the tales were quite scandalous, but then many tales of what lords and ladies got up to often were, and most of them were exaggerated immensely Melody's mother had always warned, so she paid them no heed.) Others about the keep were spooked by the events reported in flurried waves by those that claimed they had seen debauchery at its finest. These superstitious types remarked that there was a demon that had possessed Bolton's bastard. They wove stories that an eldritch powered entity of the old gods had resided within Ramsay and had leapt into the lady of the house to continue its evil work when he'd lost Winterfell. Why else would a noble woman of House Stark behave so brutally? It was a ridiculous notion, but it didn't stop a few gullible lots from believing such tales becoming thoroughly wary of Lady Sansa now. Melody remained quiet through such discussions and avoided participating in most conversations preferring to stick to the background where she was unnoticed as the mousey girl that found it better to say nothing.
It was this quiet and unassuming nature of hers that had gotten her assigned to the task of becoming a personal servant to 'the prisoner.' The head maid had suggested to the new Stark lord that out of the many servants in the keep, Melody was trust worthy and kept her nose in her work over the business of others. She had been a good choice as far as Jon was concerned, but for Melody, the job relocation was a horrifying nightmare that she wanted no part of. She was of course too afraid to turn down the order in fear of being removed from the keep entirely for failure to obey orders.
So it was, the first day of her new detail, she was assigned to fetch Ramsay clothes for an outing with their lord; Melody had spent several minutes emptying the contents of her stomach into a mop pail before moving into the room Ramsay Bolton had previously taken up residence in to fetch the man's clothes for him. She'd been in the room before, and it had filled her with countless nightmares. She had been instructed by Roose Bolton to go into the room and pull down and discard the filth of stretched out pieces of flayed skin the bastard had hung to the wall like that of an animal's instead of a person's. She'd come near fainting then on several accounts, and she'd been thankful to never be asked to do so again. Ramsay had raged at his father, but Roose had addressed him with a weary disdain that he wouldn't have such things stinking up the keep. That was the end of the discussion, and Melody was just relieved the bastard had never discovered it was her to have been the one to remove his trophies.
Ramsay hadn't made the new position any easier on Melody by immediately berating her to return the clothes she'd brought alongside bounding menacingly towards her in a provoking manner that had her almost tumbling to the ground in her fear of him. Ramsay's eyes were lit with glee wholly amused by her skittish behavior, and when she'd departed, Melody's eyes had brimmed with tears feeling shamed to have given him such joy through her own cowardice. He was a caged monster in her eyes, so how could she not be terrified?
Her outlook on Ramsay had changed though having been in the hallway that very afternoon when Ramsay had been dragged down the hall from the library kicking and screaming obscenities. Most of the other servants had fled the awful clatter of crashing tables and decorative ceramic vases, but Melody had lingered long enough to see the lord of the manor storm back toward the dungeon from the library. Melody should have moved on scrubbing a different section of the floor away from the dungeon hallway, but her own curiosity seemed to overwhelm her. Instead of listening to reason, Melody picked up her wash pail, looked in either direction to see that no one was watching her, and followed discretely at a distance behind Jon's storming pace. She'd watched him enter the dungeon, and heart beating rapidly in her chest, Melody quickly crept to the massive iron door setting her wash pail down next to it and laid her face to the floor, so that she could observe for herself the rumors she'd heard.
What Melody saw beneath the door's frame had mystified her; her wide eyes had transfixed on Jon as he grabbed the thick stitched piece of leather from the room's elegant chair before commencing to stride with purpose over to Ramsay's side quickly tossing the blanket up to expose his intended target. She watched in awe as Ramsay's lower half revealed a score of crisscross markings on his bared ass only visible from the distance she was at due to the stark contrast of Ramsay's pale pigmentation. What struck her most then was as the lord of the house went about this action, Ramsay's expression emanated fear and a hint of resignation, he was dreading what was about to come; it was an expression she'd never seen grace the bastard's face.
Melody was snapped back to reality upon hearing Jon dismiss the guards, and flushing in embarrassment, she snatched her water pail in a haste to remove herself from the doorway. She was barely able to keep from sloshing the pail's contents on the floor as she skittered clumsily forward about ten feet and crashed down painfully onto her knees. Melody swiftly grabbed the scrub brush from the pail then and fervently began scouring away at the floor as Temeric and Cecil exited the dungeon. They sent a cursory glance her way, but otherwise they paid her no mind as they whispered to themselves seemingly shell-shocked by the events that were transpiring in the room they'd just vacated over the presence of a lowly chambermaid cleaning the floor.
Melody continued nervously scouring the same patch of floor there on her knees where she'd fallen because to get up and leave now would have been a telltale sign that she'd been spying on the lord and prisoner. She really hadn't meant to be so intrusive, but what was done was done. She guiltily remained scrubbing away at the floor working her way down the hall while her ears sharply observed lash after delivered lash. Her scouring slowed as she found herself straining to listen to the entirety of the exchange although most of what Jon had said was muffled by Ramsay's keening cries of agony once so many stinging slaps had been administered.
Being so close to what was happening had Melody's stomach trembling with uneasiness; she didn't know whether to feel sorry for the Bolton bastard or not. It wasn't as if the strapping he was receiving wasn't well deserved, (whether from current affronts or prior ones Melody contemplated inwardly) but to hear a man broken down in such a way sobbing in a gut wrenching manner that spoke of true regret was enough to send shivers down her spine. The encounter seemed to go on forever, but in actuality, it had only lasted about thirty minutes if that. Once Jon had departed the dungeon, Melody hurried through the rest of the hallway scurrying off back to her room after she'd made it far enough down the hall to no longer be in view of the guards.
Melody laid awake that night staring at the ceiling unable to think of anything else other than what she'd seen and heard in that hallway; it was an experience she'd never forget. When the morning had come, she'd went to the kettle to prepare the wash bucket with warm water for Ramsay along with fetching a washcloth and bared soap. All of her newly assigned duties she moved through as if in a swirling daze while her mind still reeled over all that she'd seen and listened to mere feet away from her the day before.
Entering the dungeon, she'd placed the pail by the small table and backed away mesmerized by Ramsay's every move as she stared at him wondering in what physical state the lord of the house had left him. She understood more than most by his jerky movements why exactly Ramsay was so stiff. It wasn't a rumor to her anymore, it was a known fact, but the truth was of course nothing like that which had circulated that morning through the staff of back lashings and harsh tortures delivered by an unforgiving lord; Melody knew from what she'd been privy to that it was nothing more than a severe bout of spanking with well-meant intention to break through to Ramsay rather than tear him down (which made the Starks much less terrifying than the Boltons Melody had decided with more than a little alleviation.) The things she'd stumbled upon without ever knowing fully what had happened while in the Bolton's stead left Melody to fear for her life, but the Starks were good people her mother had told her, and Melody decided then that she believed her mother's intuition was true.
Thinking on these contrasts between the different houses as she observed him, she realized belatedly that Ramsay was now staring back at her. Some part of Melody told her to avert her eyes, but like a moth drawn to a flame, she couldn't make herself move or look away from him. Staring at each other it was clear to her that he knew she was aware of what had happened to him, and the implied accusation left her feeling anxious and guilty… guilty until Ramsay's gaze shifted, and he glared at her his most menacing glare.
The preposterousness of the situation struck her funny that Ramsay would try to intimidate her here and now in the state he was in huddled precariously over the pail she'd brought with his furred blanket wrapped tightly around him all the while scowling at her in a blatant attempt to exude his impotent fury that she was looking at him at all. He reminded her of a petulant child, and for the first time in all the time she'd known the man, Melody no longer felt afraid of him. Ramsay's flagrant intent to terrorize her had made an opposite comical reaction bloom inside of Melody, and in its wake a smile broke across her face. When she hadn't looked away, and he did, without trying to, Ramsay had given Melody reason to shed the fear that her mother, in all her most well-meaning ways, had drilled into her. He'd let her know then on some level that he was afraid too; they all were. Melody kept that smile until she departed the dungeon, and every time after that shared moment, when Ramsay looked her way, Melody couldn't help but to smile back at him in remembrance of the strength and wisdom he'd unwittingly bore within her.
It was easier to feel brave from afar though; she'd been given a different task now that required she make physical contact with the man to give him a close shave. Melody had never imagined herself in such close proximity to him, and to make matters worse, Ramsay would only glare daggers at her in clear dislike. He was going to make her duties difficult she was more than certain, and Melody felt her confidence to remain brave in his presence now slipping.
In a nervous twitch she found herself smiling at Ramsay once more which only seemed to make Ramsay more agitated as he growled hotly, "No, not her."
Melody blinked looking to Temeric and Cecil who only seemed puzzled by Ramsay's sudden angry outburst.
"What's that? What's the matter, Ramsay?" Temeric took a step away from the post he'd settled in to look the two over to see if he could ascertain what exactly had set Ramsay off.
Ramsay never glanced Temeric's way only bristling as he stared intensely at the blonde waif fuming inwardly. She thought she was good, really good. This unassuming girl; Ramsay knew better of the wickedness that lied in other's hearts. This girl would likely 'mistakenly' slip the razor across his throat in one quick motion to enact some plotted revenge that she'd no doubt worked diligently to place herself here ripe for such an opportunity. Ramsay immediately suspected Melody capable of such machinations as he ruminated on how she'd made a point to taunt him with her patronizing smirks at every encounter. To Ramsay, her deviousness shone through like a beacon, and he was hard pressed to give her such an easy opening to end him as he spat voice raising an octave, "You don't know this girl! I am almost certain she bears me ill intent from the malicious smiles she grants me daily!" Ramsay's lips were pursed, eyes glaring accusatorily at Temeric with a condescending glower on his face that spoke he knew something Temeric obviously didn't.
Temeric looked the girl over carefully seeing nothing more than a young confused woman staring back at him; he sighed tiredly glancing back to Ramsay with a softening brow, "It's been a long day, Ramsay. You're just a bit high on nerves is all. Sit back and try to relax; Lady Sansa is awaiting your arrival once you're finished here, and she's eager for your company as you are hers. Besides, there's two of us here with you, what do you think this servant girl is going to do exactly?"
Said like that, the threat seemed a bit overzealous to assume so much of this girl's capabilities and that she had that much gall; Ramsay switched gears and gave Temeric a depreciating smile, "Of course; you're right. Let's not keep Lady Sansa waiting." Moving casually over to the chair, Ramsay eased into the seat and leaned back slowly all the while keeping his eyes squarely planted on Melody in an attempt to measure her intent more fully. He laid an elbow on each chair arm leaving his hands to clasp neatly across his chest as his lip crested up into a sly grin. Ramsay prompted jovially, "Well then, let's get on with it shall we servant girl?"
Ramsay did his best to look relaxed, but his muscles were coiled and ready to react like that of snake waiting to strike. He didn't trust this girl like he did his Reek or Sansa, and after recent events where he had wished for death, that was no longer the case now. Ramsay was wary; he'd seen this girl prior to his loss of the keep, but he'd never paid her much heed, so he knew nothing about her or her possible intentions. Ramsay was regretting that now as his stomach churned and his mind whirred to devise why exactly this girl could have it out for him. Perhaps she just wanted to see him suffer like many did and failed to see come to fruition, or maybe she just outwardly took joy in his misery, but the real question he needed to discern was, was this girl a killer?
This display of aggression on Ramsay's part caught Melody off guard, and Melody wavered in her steps to proceed looking from the guards back to Ramsay noting that his smile only seemed to grow from her apparent lack of conviction. Ramsay knew then, this girl was no killer; she was too afraid of the world to take such a bold stance. No, she was just like all the rest of them, a scared rabbit ready to dart back in her burrow and hide only willing to mock him when he had no leverage to prevent it. Ramsay's smile now broadened feeling rather confident that he'd pegged her character.
For Melody, it was as if every step she took towards Ramsay the fear she'd seemingly conquered returned and amplified; he was eyeing her carefully drinking in her anxiety as she fumbled with the basket to set it on the slate embedded on the chair's side to hold such supplies. Their eyes were now locked, and Melody worked to swallow down the uneasiness she felt. It was just a shave after all, why was she feeling so nervous all of a sudden? She knew why, being so close to that which she feared caused a lurching through the entirety of her being that she could not explain. She wanted to be brave, so badly she wanted to combat these feelings of terror that seemed to overwhelm her like a tidal wave, but standing here beside Ramsay now with his irretraceable glare penetrating her core, some part of herself had to admit defeat and retreat into the recesses of her mind.
She looked away, and Ramsay chuckled lightly whispering derisively, "A close shave girl. You wouldn't want to disappoint me would you?"
Melody's eyes flicked back to his seeing Ramsay wore a cocky grin as she nodded meekly biting her lip in apprehension. She wasn't sure how she had buckled so knowing the position Ramsay was in now; he was no longer a lord of the keep, but Ramsay still intimidated Melody to comply readily with his implied demand. Ramsay's assuredness that she would made Melody want to proceed quickly with the intended task if for nothing more than to get it over and remove herself from his presence. Melody did as she was expected to do; she always did, and throughout her careful application (terrified as she was) Melody did indeed apply a close, well done, shave.
Melody did her best not to look Ramsay in the eye as she'd worked to complete the job (even though she'd felt his eyes throughout the entirety of his shave boring into her. If his stare could have burned, Melody would have sworn she would have caught fire.) Ramsay surveyed her with an entertained leer that made Melody sick to behold. He was getting great pleasure from her lack of courage to do anything more than comply.
She'd fooled herself once more, she wasn't very brave after all. Being faced with the source of her fear, Melody crumpled into the pathetic creature she'd always known herself to be. Ramsay saw her weakness immediately and relished Melody's reticence remarking as he leaned closer running his hand slowly over the completed shave, "Very good, girl. You're quite useful after all it would seem. I think I will look forward to you servicing my needs again very soon," his words were lined with honeyed amusement, but there was an undercurrent that lingered over Ramsay's statement, an imperceptible threat to those not caught within close proximity, but well felt by Melody. He was daring her now, and in response Melody simply shrank away from him taking two steps backwards.
She was more than grateful to have quickly finished the task, and Ramsay's words now echoed through her as a further mark of gluttony for ridicule by him. She didn't respond only continuing to stare at the floor, and Ramsay feeling vindicated to some degree by her demure behavior turned a swaggering smile and a chuckle back to Temeric, "It would seem I was wrong about this servant girl," his eyes drifted casually back to Melody letting his smirk linger on her, "She's obviously quite harmless. I'm ready to be reunited with my lovely wife; we should be off." Sansa had used the term husband earlier, so Ramsay felt confident to display the title now as he stared condescendingly at Melody if for no other reason than to implant the suggestion that he was worth more than her to still carry such a title.
Melody lacked self-esteem, so her eyes never rose to meet Ramsay's challenge, but her ears burned with the light mocking snicker he afforded her as he turned striding confidently away. Melody remained passively where she stood as the two guards lead Ramsay out of the dungeon. Once the dungeon door clanged shut, and she was alone again, Melody pulled back a sob feeling chagrinned that she'd ever assumed herself to be pluckier than what she'd always been; she was nothing more than a scared lost little girl in a world where she was sorely outmatched by those around her. The quicker she embraced this fact, the better off she would be.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein