Chapitre 57: Chapter 57
- The North - The Dreadfort -
Word had already spread of House Frey falling at the hands of a dragon's wrath and fire long before the flames consumed the Twins. Ravens sent out to through all of the Seven Kingdoms made it clear that House Frey planned to commit crimes of treason against the Crown during a wedding. Roose Bolton's wedding and the man was in on it with proof and signed confession from several conspirators adding to the guilt of House Frey along with House Bolton.
Naturally, Roose Bolton was angry. But also scared. He was deathly afraid and rightfully so given what happened to those caught in the dragon's teeth and claws. They did not die well or clean. They suffered. They screamed. Begged even. Their deaths were used by the dragon to let everyone know what would happen if anyone tried to betray the Crown as things currently stood.
Even worse, if it were possible, the North had already called their banners to block any and all Bolton bannermen from fleeing to other lands. Apparently, young Brandon Stark, crippled though he was, had every bit the wolf in his blood when angry. And word of this treachery had awakened it. In a rare show of maturity in ruling over the North, for one of his age being so young, the second youngest male Stark called on Northern bannermen surrounding Bolton territory to block any escape for Roose, his bastard son, or any of his bannermen for that manner.
And while Roose could try to counter it by calling in his own favors owed to him, despite them being obtained through treachery, he knew it would be pointless. No Northern Lord would betray House Stark. Not now. One of their blood was now on the Iron Throne, its Warden of the North was Hand to the new King, and the Warden's son and heir was now rumored to possibly being in a relationship with the Targaryen Princess. Add in three dragons, massive armies, and other things factored into this whole situation Roose knew no one would dare come to House Bolton's aid.
All he could do was wait. Wait to die at the hands of a dragon.
And he didn't have to wait long.
It came in the late afternoon. Sometime after word has spread of several of his bannermen trying to escape Bolton territory. Only to be cut down by Northern bannermen. No mercy on their part. "Traitors to the North" they were called. Dying deaths that would ensure the Old Gods would punish them in the afterlife. Ramsey had tried his hand at infiltration of an encampment in the dead of night with some men to break the lines on one end to make way for their escape to a possible port where they could "obtain" a boat and secure safe passage to somewhere they could survive, if not thrive in a different land.
Only for the plan to fail and a mask covered Ramsey himself barely escaping in the dead of night in the enemy encampment when a dragon lit up the sky before it killed all the men his bastard son brought with him. Ramsey even had the pleasure of seeing the King in the camp he had tried to infiltrate when fleeing back to the Dreadfort.
It actually unnerved his usually sadistic son to see someone like that and it made Roose himself nervous since his son was not so easily scared of anything or anyone.
The roar of the dragon echoed throughout the Dreadfort. His solar was shaking so much, it had caused trickles of dirt and stone to fall from the ceiling. In another room, a wooden board fell and from the sound of things, had killed someone. Hi men were heard running throughout the Dreadfort, orders from people being given, but not everyone was obeying since they didn't know who to obey outside of their Lord. Ramsey had tried to organize things with few following him or willing to follow since the boy was a bastard and had no real authority to do so given his status. One Roose had planned to change in the future, but now it seemed moot given what was about to happen.
But the Leech Lord would not bow. Not anymore. He would not beg. He would not plead for mercy. For too long, he and his House had been under the thumb of the Starks. All of them for generation to generation. Several rebellions against House Stark, only to be put down because those of his House chose to do it openly while waiting for the right time to do it secretly.
Only now, it seemed to becoming undone by the new King. It would have perfect if it was allowed to happen. Killing Stark, the King, those who supported him. Creating such a power vacuum that everyone and their Grandson would be striving to fill the void. To try becoming the new King of Westeros. Some would claim it through their lineage via the bastard relationship they had with Robert Baratheon. Others would falsify it or just say the Seven Kingdoms would be better off with new blood over those men descended from the previous Kings.
And through it all, Roose would have claimed the North for his House. He would have made himself its new King. A King of the North. Ruling with a cruel iron fist and made his bastard son Ramsey the heir. They would have brought the Northern Lords to heel with threats and flaying. Aided by House Frey, they could have taken vast amounts of territory when going further South, and forged a new Kingdom. The plan was to finally consume the other Seven Kingdoms to be one whole one under the banner of the flayed men.
Under the banner of House Bolton.
Only for this damn King to ruin everything!
"Where is he? Where is the King?" asked Roose to his archers in the hopes they would spot him.
"I don't know my Lord. He's not on the dragon from what my eyes I can see," said one of the archers while they tried to shoot the dragon despite knowing it was a waste.
"Then he is on the ground. He is here in the castle Search the Dreadfort! He is here. Take his head! Once the King dies, the dragon will die too!" commanded Roose while his men were now searching the castle for the King.
Apparently the dragon must have heard him and didn't take kindly to his command before unleashing a massive wave of fire on the wall he was standing on. Roose leaped from his spot into a pile of hay below him and was fortunate it was thick enough to break his fall from a height so high that it would have killed him without it. His archers however, were not so fortunate, as they burned, screamed, and ran while on fire.
A fire that was now spreading as a result in some places depending on where these men failed.
"Looking for me?" asked Aegon with Roose turning around and glaring at the King with an intense hatred few could match while the dragon continued its destruction of the castle around them.
"You. Foolish boy, I will enjoy flaying your corpse and that of your dragon," remarked Roose with Aegon tilting his head slightly in thought.
"You presume the day is yours and you will achieve victory here over me. Not this day you won't," replied Aegon with Roose snarling angrily before drawing his sword and his flaying knife he had on hand.
"We shall see your Grace," said Roose mockingly before he stopped and found breathing to be extremely difficult.
No. Scratch that. He couldn't breathe at all!
"Do you think I would spend use up more time, energy, and efforts needed on someone like yourself Lord Bolton? Men like you are not worthy of dying honorable deaths at the hands of a King's sword. The Greyjoys learned that the hard way with my Aunt leading dragons to burn down their island. So did House Frey and all its vile brood at the Twins. Why should you, your bannermen, and your bastard son be any different?" said Aegon before throwing the man left and right, hitting wall after wall, some wood, some stone, and into some things pointy or sharp.
When Aegon was done using the man like a projectile, he was still alive, barely alive to be more precise, and had a few pointy objects sticking through parts of his body. One of the rooms nearby that Roose had been thrown into at one point had been Ramsey Snow's prized torturing room where the bastard learned the craft of his House. It was only fitting in Aegon's opinion that some of them were used against the man who taught his son how to torture people regardless if it was for obtaining information or just for fun.
As such, the King used the Force to make more of those various torture toys fly into the Leech Lord's body. Each one piercing, cutting, slicing, and ironically enough, flaying the man all over his body. He was going to give the man in front of him a taste of what others had suffered for no reason other then to be a target for their sick pleasure.
By the time Roose did finally die, he was unrecognizable to anyone who knew him. His body was to bloodied and missing too many pieces to be recognized as the Lord of the Dreadfort.
Fitting considering all the lives destroyed in a similar manner.
"I must say your Grace, I never once thought I would be honored to see someone such as yourself here or use such power to hurt him," said the soft voice, almost soothing voice of a young man in servant clothes approaching Aegon quietly from behind.
"Oh really. And who are you?" asked Aegon before turning to face the seemingly humble young man in front of him with a disarming smile on his face.
"A humble servant of the castle my Lord. No one important. I am hiding until the traitors of the North are no more. I trust humble servants who are forced to serve such people will be spared your wrath and dragon's fire?" said the man while acting quite humble and very submissive in his presence.
"Perhaps. Though you aren't one of those ever humble servants forced to serve this man or his bastard son," said Aegon with the man not even twitching at the accusation.
"I don't know what you mean your Grace," said the man humbly.
"Drop the act. I know who you are, Ramsey Snow. You will not deceive me as you did others with your humble bowing and friendly smile. I see you for what you truly are in life," replied Aegon while Ramsey's smile increased slightly.
"I see. So hiding in plain sight will not work with you like it has others. A shame. I was wondering if I could fool you and flay you like I have so many others. I always wanted to know if it was possible to flay a dragon," said Ramsey with his smile never leaving him.
"You won't live long enough to find out," said Aegon with Ramsey smirking still.
"And how are you going to kill me? With those powers of yours? Your dragon? Your Valyrian steel sword? How about it your Grace? Honorable combat. Just the two of us? Surely a King such as yourself is honorable enough to fight in a duel like the one I am offering," said Ramsey while knowing his only way out of this was to kill the King and hoped the dragon would die soon after from the connection being severed.
"I know I am honorable, bastard. Unlike you. But I only give honorable duels to those who are worthy of them. You are not. The fact you even suggest such a thing further proves just how desperate you are not to die here with the rest of the filth in this place," said Aegon with Ramsey's jaw twitching for a second.
"I want an honorable duel. I ask that you give it to me. Out of respect from one former bastard to an actual bastard like myself," said Ramsey with Aegon just letting out a cruel chuckle.
"First, I was never a bastard. I was raised as one since my Uncle didn't know how else to protect me from those who would have wanted me dead. You are an actual bastard. One who takes everything from everyone. You hurt others because you enjoy the sound of their screams and pain. You have no shame. No honor. And such, I am going to do the realm of men a favor by removing your putrid stain of a presence from this world," said Aegon with Ramsey's smile leaving him and became an angry scowl.
"I'm going to enjoy your screams and the excitement it will bring me to flay a King," said Ramsey before he made the first move to get within striking distance of Aegon.
Only for Aegon to blast Ramsey back with Sith Lightning.
"Such a foolish and prideful child you are, believing I would not be able to strike first or even be fast enough. That I would not be so ruthless enough to crush you in a way that was befitting a wretched creature such as yourself," said Aegon while Ramsey struggled to get up, but was soon hit with even more Force Lightning, and was screaming out in pain from it.
When it stopped, Ramsey tried to get up again. Only to be hit by more Force Lightning and more screams from his mouth were heard. This happened multiple times while the bastard of the Dreadfort tried to comprehend what was happening to him.
This feeling of being hurt. This feeling of being in unimaginable pain. For as long as he could remember, his Father had shielded Ramsey from those who wanted to hurt him. To beat him. To teach the bastard boy what it meant to be part of House Bolton or live in the Dreadfort. It was a place where cruelty thrived and innocent was snuffed out. Sometimes violently. But Roose wanted to protect his son from such things. Bastard or not. From a young age, Ramsey showed he was every bit his Father's son and Roose could not have his men attacking his son in the off change it damaged the boy into become a weak mess of a man.
Hence why the feeling of pain and suffering was so new to him. Ramsey was no stranger to dishing out pain, suffering, torture, and all out torment to others. But to experience it himself was entirely different.
"Stop. Stop! You can't do this. This isn't right. You are suppose to be a man of honor. This is suppose to be beneath you," mumbled Ramsey while trying to stand.
SNAP!
Only for his leg to suddenly break like a wet twig. He screamed of course. The sudden action made his own desire to resist screaming out overpowering what he wanted. He looked down at his right leg, bent at an odd angle. Before Ramsey could contemplate anything, he found himself being lifted off the ground by some invisible power, and by his own broken leg, which enhanced the pain he felt already. The bastard tried to find a way to somehow free himself from this invisible hold, but there was nothing to break free from when trying to grab whatever was doing this to him. Soon, his body was suddenly forced straight, sans his right leg, his head and arms pointing downward so he could see the ground beneath him. Soon, his wide variety of weapons stored on his person came out from simple knifes to his favorite flaying blade, wine cork openers, his crossbow hidden under his cloak along with a small quiver of arrows, and other various objects he used in the torment of others.
All of them hovering. All of them moving around Ramsey, floating in a circle around his form. He stared at them, memories of what he did with each one coming to the forefront of his mind, which brought the man a brief sense of joy at what they did to those who had been on the receiving end of their pain inducing forms.
Only to find they were now being used on him. His crossbow was aimed and fired on his body with bolt after bolt from his quiver being used until it was empty. Each bolt hitting a nonlethal spot on his body. Various blades and other torturous weapons doing the same as they were unleashed on the Bolton bastard of the Dreadfort. His screams echoing for anyone within the area to hear, but Aegon cared not for whoever heard them. If there was anyone in this place alive, they were either dying, or ready to flee to let the rest of the Northern Lords deal with them.
He just wanted to focus on Ramsey.
"You think yourself some sort of being of justice. Punishing wicked people like me. But you are not. You are a monster. Just like me. You hurt people. Just like me. You are no better then a bastard. The only difference between the two of us in this moment, is you wear a crown and call yourself King," said Ramsey with a smile while his blood came pouring out of his injuries and mouth.
"No. The only difference between the two us in this moment, is you are about to die an agonizing death in the name of those you kill for fun and sport. Your Father's legacy, his House's legacy, and your legacy will be wiped out after today. The stain on the North from which you produced will be removed and the history of House Bolton will be lost or buried for all time," replied Aegon while watching the bastard's wound produce more blood and decided to increase by using the Force to squeeze it even more.
It was like squeezing a fruit of all its juice until there was nothing left.
Ramsey screamed of course. Even going so far as to beg the King for some measure of mercy like the coward he was in life. In truth, people like Ramsey were cowards when someone gives such a sadistic person a taste of the pain he usually delivered to others. They acted arrogant around others in the belief they didn't have the stomach to do what he did because it would make them just as bad. To use another man's morality against him and use it as a shield. How the laws used to protect innocent people could be used to shield guilty people like himself while rubbing it in the faces of the people around him.
But Aegon held no such restraint. He knew Ramsey was guilty so any so called laws in place to protect innocent people didn't apply to him. In fact, Aegon felt no guilt in doing such horrible things to Ramsey or anyone like him because they were not men like him. They were monsters hiding behind human flesh and the laws of men in the belief such things would protect them from the more honorable people of the world in positions of power.
So let them die painful deaths befitting monsters and let the memories of them be purged when the next generation ruled these lands.
When Aegon finally did release Ramsey from his grip, the man fell to the ground looking like a shriveled up corpse. A look of horror on his face. One that did not comprehend or understand why he was being punished, only that he had been punished. It further showed the King that a man such as this had no business being alive or near others to cause them harm.
Walking out of the Dreadfort casually, he heard his dragon roaring, breathing fire down on the remaining Bolton bannermen, and turning the once mighty castle into a pile of ash.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone