SWEET CREATURE [ Ramsay Bolton ]

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

She's washed the blood away, along with all the grime and memory of the dead soldier. Her small victory has made her quite full; she can live off of it for days.

     She makes herself at home in Ramsay's chambers. She spends most of her nights here anyways; Ramsay will be expecting her when he walks through the heavy wooden door. The air turns sour when he enters the room, the shadows grow slightly darker. He's spoiled, she thinks. Completely rotten in his core even more so than she is. Katherine knows she is wicked, but Ramsay Bolton is a rare kind of human. He's something less than, missing a piece that would make him whole.

     Katherine knows love, she has felt it before. She's not sure Ramsay ever has. He

     He's quiet, simply observing her move about his room. What's going on in his mind, she wonders. He must be furious at her display of strength before all his men. Appearances must keep up, she understands this. But the charade can grow so boring and Ramsay hates boring.

     However, he doesn't look pleased. His face looks rather grim.

     "I see why you enjoy a blade so much, my Lord," Katherine teases, slipping closer to where he stands by the door.

"You certainly have a knack for it," he replies with a sneer. "You put on quite a show, Kat."

"Someone has to control your men." She's close enough now that he grabs her arm tightly, pulling her closer to him. He's warning her but why should she care?

"You forget yourself," he hisses. "I will not be ordered around like a commoner. He takes a step forward, forcing her back. "I have the power." Another step. "I'm warden of the north." Another step. "And you are mine." Her back brushes the wall.

     He's losing control, his aggression is quickly growing. His startling blue eyes have turned an ominous black. But hers are darker.

She snaps her teeth at him, fangs gleaming in the flickering candle light. He clenches his teeth at the sight, but refuses to show further reaction. He's not scared of her, not anymore. He lets go of her arm, slips his hands to rest on his lower back.

"I am no ones," she tells him, leaning up to place her fangs at his jaw. He can feel them scrape the skin, just enough to sting before her fangs retread. Now all he feels is the soft swell of her lips moving as she speaks. "You'll do well to remember that before I carve the words into your own flesh. Just as you said, I do pretty well with a blade."

She steps aside to remove herself from between him in the wall when suddenly, her breath sucked out from her lungs. She doubles over, clutches Ramsay's shoulder, and looks down incredulously at the blade sticking out from her chest. It's painful, so painful, and Ramsay twists it further in for good measure.

"How about a blade to the heart?" he asks, jaw clenched tight. He follows her down as she drops to the floor. "So you do feel pain."

"How-" she feels her heart contracting around the cold steel, can taste her own blood on her lips. What in seven hells?

"There are quite a few wise tales about how to ward of demons," he tells her. She struggles to catch the meaning in his words as her vision wanes. "The steak is laced with vervain. Do you recognize it?"

     Vervain? The word alone catches her attention, makes her cry out. She tries to crawl backward and away from the pain, away from him. She no longer cares how pathetic she looks. But he follows her, makes sure the dagger doesn't leave her chest. She flops back down, too weak to move.

     "You'll begin to feel it lace with your blood," he tells her. His face floats before her, the only thing she sees. The light dims around them. "I told you I would find your weaknesses."

"Not so fast," he says, patting her cheeks when she starts to fade. "Allow me to make one thing clear, my lady. I allow you to traipse around my home, order my servants around and feed on who you like. But you assume too much. Such insolence will lead to your demise. If you continue to push me, you will regret it." She coughs, and speckles of blood land on his face.

     "Am I understood?" he snarls, demanding her attention. She hisses, fangs on display, eyes turning black.

     "Yes." she glares at him, black veins creeping up under her pale skin. He swiftly stands, taking the dagger with him.

     She gasps, curls up on the floor, and waits for her wounds to heal.

     . . .

Eventually, she finds the strength to pull herself up from the floor, out of the blood that's puddled beneath her. Every movement burns as the vervain travels through her veins, the hole in her chest still struggling to heal. Ramsay will pay for this.

She smells food, follows the scent down the hall until she reaches a familiar doorway. She knows exactly who's inside but, and she hesitates for only a moment. Leaning heavily against the wall, she pushes the door open.

     Fiona is sitting at her desk when Katherine enters her room. She immediately stands, eyes wide as she takes in Katherine's haggard appearance. She's never seen her in such a state. The usually poised and powerful woman looked ready to drop dead.

     "Katherine!" She exclaims, hating how frightened she sounds. "What's happened? Are you well?"

"I will be," she promises.

     Fiona doesn't have time to scream before she's wrapped in Katherine's arms, neck on display for Katherine to bite into. The bite stings, but the feeding is worse.

When Katherine feels her body finally begin to heal, she pulls away, lets Fiona's body drop to the floor. There's still a faint heart beat; it's weak but it's there. Her eyes flicker open and she watches as Katherine bites into her own wrist. When the blood is offered to her, she shudders and turns her head away. She doesn't want it. She's scared of it.

     "You wish for the strength to defend yourself," Katherine tells her, refusing to let Fiona turn down such a gift. "You wish for the power of a dozen men, it's why you came to me."

     "I..." she whispers, voice hoarse. Her eyelids feel so heavy, she barely has the strength to speak. There's so much she wants to tell Katherine. How she was doomed the very moment she was born a girl in this world. How she was doomed being born under the Bolton's banner. How unfair it was that she never had enough power to become something more.

But Katherine already knows.

     "This is what you seek," she tells her, pushing her wrist ever closer. "Take it."

Fiona slowly tilts her face towards the wrist. And then she opens her mouth, letting the blood drip over her tongue.

Katherine lets her have her fill. After so many gulps of blood, she reaches over and promptly snaps her little neck in two.