Northern Conqueror

Chapter 5: Mutiny and Miracles

Chapter 5: Mutiny and Miracles

"Are we certain these are the same bandits?" Roose asked Harald Karstark.

"As best we can tell, my lord," Harald nodded. "We tracked them, but we lost them to the north. They could be hiding in the Gift."

Ramsay's eyes flickered. "They could be heading to the Wall."

"To take the black?" Roose asked dismissively.

"To find the last Stark," declared Ramsay.

"Jon Snow's a bastard, not a Stark."

Ramsay tilted his head, his arms crossed. "So was I, Father."

Harald Karstark frowned. "Your hold on the North will never be secure so long as a Stark could walk through that door."

Ramsay approached his father. "Castle Black isn't defended on the southern side. The few men left are barely men at all. Farm boys and thieves. With a small force we could storm the castle, kill Jon Snow-"

"Murder the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch? You'd unite every house in the North against us!"

Ramsay shrugged. "We don't need every house in the North. The Umbers, the Manderlys and the Karstarks command more soldiers than all the others houses combined. With their support, none could challenge us."

Harald nodded warily. "The Starks lost my house the day King Robb took my father's head. It's time for new blood in the North."

Ramsay grinned at Harald. "Well said, good father."

Roose noticed Harald could barely make himself look to Ramsay and nod. He'd heard the things his son did with Alys Karstark. Saw what the girl had become.

The North had always believed Winterfell needed a Stark, but with the Stark daughters dead or missing, the only option was to play on House Karstark's Stark blood stemming from their founder, Karlon Stark when he started the cadet branch. That would be enough to quiet the people's demand for Stark blood, at least keep them from using it against them.

Getting to his feet, Roose looked to Ramsay. "If you acquire a reputation as a mad dog you'll be treated as a mad dog. Taken out back and slaughtered for pig feed."

The clink of Wolkan's chains heralded his arrival before his words. "My lords. Lady Walda had given birth." He managed a smile, the best he could after all these years among the Boltons. "A boy!" Ramsay's eyes shifted, his jaw set and firm as Wolkan continued. "Red cheeked and healthy."

"Your congratulations, Lord Bolton," Harald offered.

Roose turned to Ramsay, who approached him. After a moment Ramsay embraced him. "Congratulations, Father. I look forward to meeting my new brother."

Once they separated, Roose placed a hand on his shoulder. "You'll always be my firstborn." The words were bitter on his tongue, his mind flashing to Domeric. The first son he'd lost, the better son.

Ramsay thought of him as well. His brother, the weak boy who'd rather play a harp than hunt a woman. Even though he'd shared their father's cold instincts and could have matched Ramsay in the yard, he was a soft heart, friendly and polite. The pathetic fool had wanted nothing more than a brother. And he choked on his bloated tongue as Ramsay smiled down on him.

Roose knew, but he had no choice. Mad and born from the rape of some waste of flesh who'd failed to keep Ramsay away as he paid her to do, he reeled the boy in, let him have his outlets. Crafted him from a wild bastard to a lord.