3. Locked In The Keep

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DREADFORT WAS A SERIOUS CASTLE with serious subjects. Rarely the laughter was, and singing and dancing were almost non-existent. A good morning would always turn bleak for the rest of the day because of this mood engraved in the walls surrounding the place. There was no escaping it. It's contagious.

However, one of the chambers of the keep was filled with joyful humming. Lady Nisha really relished the warm water of her bath that she couldn't stop singing a Dornish lullaby. It reminded her of the hot springs back in Dorne, her real home. She couldn't deny that the atmosphere here in the North was quite bland and slightly depressing, but she did not let it affect her. She kept her warm smiles still. After all, she had some things to be grateful for: having good company, and staying alive after all those mishaps that occured to her.

By the time she finished bathing, she packed her things for her journey to the Last Hearth. She decided to only bring light baggage so her horse could carry her lightly and move faster. She wrapped up things quickly then left her chamber.

As she tried to navigate the dim-lit corridors, Nisha stumbled upon a lady with white snow skin and raven hair. Her eyes twinkled like stars, but there was something else in there as she studied Nisha curiously.

"Lady Nisha?" The lady spoke.

"Yes?"

"My name's Myranda, and I'll be your handmaiden."

"Oh." Nisha was taken aback. "I'm sorry, you don't have to. I'll be bidding farewell now to Lord Ramsay."

Nisha walked past Myranda, but she grabbed a hold of her arm which made her stop from moving any further. "You're not bidding farewell any time soon, mi'lady."

She gave her a confused look. "What?"

"What I mean, mi'lady, is... Lord Ramsay enjoyed your company. He decided to prolong your stay here." Then Myranda smiled, but her smile was stiff. "So, you don't have to go now."

"Oh..." Nisha wanted to grin, but she stopped herself by pressing her lips together. He liked her enough to make her stay a bit longer and it revived the butterflies on her belly. But alas, she had a mission to accomplish before it's too late: a secret needed to be told to the right person before it could give birth to chaos. "I'm sorry, but I really have to go."

"But-"

"I have to go. Please bring me to Lord Ramsay and I'll bid my farewell."

Thinking that her decision was set in stone and couldn't be bent, Myranda just bowed in obedience then led her out the manor and into the inner courtyard.

Ramsay Bolton was there, practicing his skills in archery. His poise was proud and confident, his gaze was ardent and fervid. In his caliginous attire, he brought dominance with his presence. He was fierce. And with his bow and arrows, he hit the bullseye perfectly. His aim was excellent. Always excellent.

"Ra- er, Lord Ramsay..." Myranda called.

He turned around sharply, irritated that he's disturbed. However, his expression softened as soon as he locked eyes with his guest.

"I bring you Lady Nisha."

She then stepped forward, closer to him. "Lord Ramsay."

He bowed. "My lady."

"I am very grateful for your hospitality." Nisha began, a little bit flushed. "You opened your doors to me when I needed shelter. I will never forget your kindness. But now, I must go."

"This early in the morning?" He was dazed at her suddenness. "You know you can stay here as long as you want."

"Yes, my lord, and I am very grateful for that. But, I have other matters to attend to."

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