WELL FLAYED [Game Of Thrones: The Boltons]

4. The Hunted

YORR WAS A YOUNG SHEPPARD who only turned nineteen. He was a promising lad who was born unfortunately in Dreadfort from a family of farmers and traders. He dreamed of leaving Dreadfort one day and dreamed of seeing the world outside the North. He wanted to travel to the South and with Nisha's beguiling stories about her homeland, Dorne became the first place he desired to go.

Yorr did not really like the noble folks, for they were known to be cold and distant. They gave no care about other people, unless they had something to gain from it. They were filthier than them, and even filthiest than the politics of the Seven Kingdoms. However, Lady Nisha Umber was the opposite of them. She cared for people like they were family, noble or not. She had no capability to pick and choose whom she would give her kindness to. She was everything that they're not. And because of this, Yorr willingly offered his loyalty and his service to her.

Him and Nisha then became the bestest of friends; their bond was that of a brother and a sister, for they got each other's support, care, and familial love. He knew that it was deemed inappropriate for a commoner to build such relation to a noble born, but when they're together, titles faded, only friendship bloomed.

They made a promise that they would sail together in Dorne. Nisha would tour him around and would introduce him to her family there, and would go to busy markets to explore. However, it all seemed to fade one night.

On that night, Yorr was left bruised and beaten on the path to Oldwood after Ramsay had his guards kick and strike him for taking Lady Nisha out the Dreadfort without his permission.

Yorr thought he would stay there until the morn as some of his broken limbs left him immobilized. However, a huge soldier wearing the sigil of the Flayed Man went back to his spot then carelessly lifted him up on his shoulder.

His sight was blurry, but he knew they were closely approaching the Dreadfort. Once they moved through its towering stonewalls and into the bleakness of its insides, they went straight to the infamous torture tower that stood separately from the very back of the main keep. However, instead to go up, the soldier carrying Yorr descended to the stairs that led to the dungeons.

The dungeons were dim and damp as there were only few torches around the stonewalls. It created haunting shadows at every corner and gave such cold temperature that could make a person's breath seen. Everything about the place was eerie and not very pleasant to smell, for the stench of dried blood and rotten flesh as well as the broken whimpers of unfortunate souls locked in some distant cells, all cursed its propriety.

"Where is this little sheppard?" Ramsay Snow's icy conniving voice cut through the pungent air. He was standing inside a spacious cell behind a wooden rack.

"Here m'lord." On cue, the guard dropped the lad on the filthy ground; some cockroach passed by Yorr, but he was in so much pain to mind.

"You've done well, Aengus." Ramsay slow clapped in appreciation. "Now, would you be so kind to tie him up?"

Aengus did what his master bid, and soon the young sheppard was strapped on the wooden rack. His arms were spread sideways as his legs below.

"Leave us now." Ramsay ordered, and Aengus scurried away without further questions.

Once it was the two of them, Ramsay slumped down at his table filled with torture materials. "What was your name again?"

Yorr did not speak.

Ramsay slammed his fist on the table, creating a reverberating noise in the cell. It's loudness made the captured sheppard flinch and yelp in fear. It was the only time he answered. "Yorr... M-my name."

"Yorr, Yorr, Yorr..." Ramsay stood up then ran his fingers over the knives with various shapes and sizes laid out on the table. "Have you realized yet how your stolen time with my lady has costed you?"