WELL FLAYED [Game Of Thrones: The Boltons]

5. The Thief

MYRANDA WAS FEEDING THE HOUNDS with spoiled meat of the swines died from flu. There was a shortage of prisoners that were to be tortured in the dungeons, so there weren't any leftovers for the hounds to feast on.

The battle against the small band of rebels was a massacre for their part. The Boltons did not honor their dead as Ramsay ordered to bury all the slain rebels only in a dump site to erase evidence that would send him into harsh predicament with his Lord Father and the Warden of the North. What they did must not reach Winterfell, for they committed unsolicited action of warfare punishable of a heavy price.

And now she's here, chopping pigs and feeding it to his dogs because there were no take-homes of corpses. It was disappointing.

"Lord Ramsay said not to over feed the hounds." A voice, coming from the doors of the kennel, uttered.

The tone was steady and quiet, but it beheld a certain viciousness. Myranda didn't need to look to know who spoke. "Don't be so unkind to my babies, Damos. They hadn't eaten for three days."

Damos trudged toward her; his crimson long hair swaying with his motion. Then, he yanked her to face him. "You should follow orders."

They were inches apart, and Myranda could feel his intense pulse. "I know how to follow orders, and I know how to stop sometimes when it doesn't align with some things." Myranda lifted her hand then touched the thin scar across his eye - being covered by a patch. "Look what it had gotten you..."

Damos grabbed her hand, stopping her from feeling him. "This is not about following orders. This is the Lady Snow's defiance."

Myranda chuckled. "I didn't think of you as a man who sulk."

"Tis nothing. My lady earned her place beside my lord. She has my respect."

She looked deep into his eye - the color of the sea during a storm. "Yet your gaze holds an unfathomable grudge. You only try to hide it because you have an order to follow..."

Damos remained quiet. This made Myranda to continue to speak her intrusive mind.

"You may be a rule follower, but I do not trust you with mi'lady." She snatched away her hand from his grip, and with her brutal stare, she warned him. "If you ever as so scheme your reprisal of an eye-for-an-eye, I would know. And I would make sure you'll wake up with both eyes gone."

"Being the Lord's wench really makes you brave, ain't it?" He pulled her hair from behind, forcing her to look up at him. However, he released her briefly. "But it doesn't matter. There would come a time that she'd do to you what she did to me. Don't forget she put you in a cell and you almost starved to death."

Myranda smiled. "That was a long time ago."

Damos smiled back, and it was a rare sight. "But not long enough."

By noon, Myranda was in the kitchen, helping with the other maidservants prepare the midday meal.

As she was peeling carrots and boiling them, she overheard Violet gossiping with the other maids about Tansy.

Apparently, she was gaining Ramsay's favor because - according to Violet, Tansy was being a snitch to others' inconvenience, even just with the tiny ones. She was one of the reasons why Ramsay always had someone to drag with into his dungeons. But now that everyone was behaving as of late after the secret battle near Lonely Hills, Tansy couldn't report any 'inconvenience', and she became quiet for awhile.

Myranda was aware of Lady Nisha's second attempt of escaping by hiding inside a barrel; though, she didn't say a word; she wanted to make up to what had happened the first time, and finally see her gain her dream: to become free of Dreadfort. However, someone saw besides her and reported it to Ramsay. Myranda hadn't known who it was, but now, she thought she might've figured it out.