WELL FLAYED [Game Of Thrones: The Boltons]

9. Dreadwoods

RAMSAY RODE HIS STALLION toward the open pavilion; Damos and Cornelius were close behind. They weren't satisfied with their hunt unlike any other day, as a fisherman's daughter from Oldwood whom they chased around Dreadwoods killed herself before they could wound and catch her.

Ramsay did not get the ecstacy he sought in their hunt; it left him all peeved and vexed. His bloodlust had not died down yet, it only grew more hungry, tainting the air around him. The locals within the walls of the Dreadfort could feel it; it sent chill down their spine. They quickly dispersed once their lord's bastard crossed the courtyard, fearing the possibility of being his next prey if they stumbled onto him.

Cornelius and Damos silently followed him into the the torture tower, and then, descended down the stairs to the dungeons. They knew that whenever he's not contented with his hunts, he would torment captured people instead - hidden deep under the towering walls of Dreadfort. They were in a hellish ride, as they knew just well, that it would take a whole day to satiate his bloodlust.

Ramsay barged in through the hallways of the dungeons with carved pavements. His steps were light, yet aggressive. There were a lot of options to choose from in each cell to feed his growing malignance; but he did not care about those random broken prisoners. He already had his eyes on a certain someone.

Nearby a narrow tunnel that led to another hallway, Ramsay reached a huge cell with thick iron bars. The headless corpse he left inside was now covered in maggots that were chowing down the skin, making hundreds of tiny holes where rich yellow pus could ooze out. The stench was strong, it could make an infant suffocate and die.

His keys jiggled around his girdle when he lunged toward the lock of the cell. Though, he stopped - suddenly, when he realized that the lock was ruined. Ramsay's icy gray eyes widened alertly as he looked around the spacious cell, searching for a cowering scrawny orange-haired boy.

But there was none.

The sheppard boy was not behind bars.

"HORIDIUS!" Ramsay shouted, aggravation was now apparent in his voice.

The gigantic man emerged from the last tunnel at the side. He appeared to be so bloody, as red stained his face and teeth and clothes - all matching the red of his hair, but only one shade darker.

"You're supposed to watch him." Ramsay was not pleased with the mess the dungeon's guard made. "I told you, you can only eat him when I'm done with him!"

The giant gruffed in response, but then tried to stutter some incoherent words. "N...o...ea...t...him...on...ly...o...thers."

"Only others? Who did you eat exactly?'

Horidius glanced at the cell he came from. There were no more tormented cries and moans of the prisoners. It was eerily quiet.

Ramsay's face turned grim. "What have you done..."

Damos ran to the tunnel to confirm what had been implied. And it was true. His older brother had eaten all of the prisoners in the cells of that tunnel. Blood was sprayed on the walls, painting it vividly; it also splattered on the floor, making a crimson pool. Behind the iron bars of each cell, were mutilated body parts; the meat of some were viscously gnawed to the bones, while some were chewed half way. Flies buzzed on the ripped corpses on the ground. They were all eager to feast on the dead and lay their eggs in them that would soon become fat wiggling maggots.

Damos returned with his head hanging low. He couldn't look Ramsay in the eye. Ramsay was agitated. "Well?"

"Mi'lord...my brother ate them all."