Bolton Rising - Arya – Part 28 (AU, RP, 18+)

As they approached the castle, she recognized it as her home, both then, and now. When she left she was a steward's girl. Now she is to be the Lady of the place. Only she is not herself, and never will be again. The wind blows cold, whipping the snow around the party as they ride and she shivers, though she has been cold for so long, she does not remember what it is to be warm. When they finally arrived, she was taken quickly to a chamber where she was left alone. She'd tried to ask questions, but those to whom she spoke, acted as though they did not hear her words. She was alone, this was, in it's way, as bad as her training had been.

There was no fire, only candles. She tried holding out her hands over the small flames, trying to feel the warmth, but to no avail. All she felt was the cold and fear and a strange sense of numbness. Even the tears would not come. She knelt on the window seat and looked out over the yard. Dead men hung from the trees. Men she might have known, had their faces not been purple, bloated, decayed. Ravens squawked in the trees, occasionally gliding down to light on the shoulder of a corpse, pecking at an eye or a protruding tongue. She started when the door swung open behind her, springing to her feet, hand over her heart, as though to quiet it's pounding. Two men entered, as the candles flickered. The draft made her shiver and she bit her lip to stop her teeth from chattering.

"Let me look at you, girl." The first man snapped at her, striding across the room and taking her chin in his hand, tilting her head back roughly. She allowed him to do so with no resistance. She had learned better than to resist what was asked of her. She looked up at him, sad brown eyes wide, trying hard to force a smile. He was tall, handsome, with dark hair and sensuous lips. His eyes, rimmed with long, dark lashes, were the palest shade of ice blue she had ever seen. Not just pale, she thought, cold. So cold.

"Look at her, Reek! My wife to be is a pretty thing, is she not?" The second man looked up from his toes and took a limping step forward, giving a tight lipped smile. His hair was white, but she recognized his eyes. She had known him... before. He'd always been smiling, she'd thought him handsome. Now his eyes were hurt and his smile, slow in coming, was not as it should be.

"Aye, my Lord. She is fair, indeed." The broken man answered, nodding.

"Fair?" The handsome man turned, letting her go and she realized that she'd been holding her breath. "You insult me, Reek? You do not find my wife beautiful?" He turned slowly and the broken man fell to his knees.

"Please... My Lord... She is beautiful... As only you deserve..." She could see that he shook all over. He held his hands up as if to shield himself and some of his fingers were missing. She felt a pang of pity for him. He'd been so different, so full of life... Her Lord husband had broken him. He will break me too...

"That's better. Get her ready. Bring her to the Godswood. I want this done now. Everyone has assembled." The handsome man snapped, spinning on his heel and leaving. She couldn't help but notice his grace, the way he moved with a litheness that put her in mind of some kind of predator. The door slammed behind him and the broken man struggled to get to his feet.

He helped her change her gown, not speaking, not showing her that he recognized her. She shivered as she removed her gown. He turned his back as she did so, not turning to her again until she had slipped the white lambswool gown over her head. He helped her with her fastenings, but clumsily, his missing fingers making the job difficult.

"My Lady, it's time." Looking up at him, she promised him she would be a good wife. Better than the real Arya. She wasn't sure why she needed to make him understand this. She knew her duty and she would try her best to be good. She needed him to know this. He told her she was the real Arya.

"They say he likes to hurt people. They say he hurt you..." He told her he'd made him angry. That he'd needed to be punished. He said to please him, to be a good wife and she would be safe, her Lord would be good to her.

“Help me... Please... We could leave together, we could marry. You could use me as you please... I could be your woman..." She grasped his arm and pleaded with him.

"I'm man to no one... not any more. Don't speak of it, you're to be his... you must make him happy and be his Lady wife... You're Arya now... Come, it's time, no more tears. You must smile on this happy day."

She tried, but it was difficult. She was so afraid... she was so cold. He guided her to the Godswood, although she knew the way. This place was so different now, broken, like he was. The ceremony was a blur. She accepted her Lord husband, what else could she do? Then there was feasting. She wore his cloak, pink, studded with red garnets. She imagined the flayed man on her back and shuddered. She ate nothing, but drank wine, clutching her goblet tightly to keep her hands from shaking.

He'd left her in the Hall, sitting alone, until the broken man came for her. "It's time to do your duty." He looked sad, she thought. He was sorry for her. Imagine, this mutilated shadow of a man being sorry for her. Arya wanted to cry, but again, no tears came. Six men escorted them to her Lord Husband's bedchamber. One of them spoke of wanting a piece of the bloody sheet and she knew she had sunk to the the depths, never to rise again. The handsome man... my husband... smiled when they entered. That is, his mouth curled dangerously, his eyes, however, remained cold. He called her his sweet maid. Perhaps he will love me... He said I was pretty... I'll be so good to him... I will give him sons, and he will love me....

He sat back in his chair and looked her over, ordering the broken man to undress her. When he moved to untie her laces, her Lord told him to cut the gown away, he was impatient. The broken man did as he was told, then cut away her smallclothes until she stood still, naked and shivering. She wanted to cover herself, but he indicated she should not, and he was right. Her husband owned this body now, it was his right to inspect her whenever he chose. She knew there were scars on her back and she hoped he would not be disappointed. She'd been punished so many times. Punished for crying, for not learning fast enough, for missing her home, her family... I am home now.

Her husband ordered her to lay back on the bed and spread her legs. His fingers caressed her leg, moving up between her thighs, gently. Suddenly he thrust two fingers into her and the pain made her gasp. He slapped her, angry, he wanted her to want him, but she was so afraid... She had been trained to please a man, but that didn't make her want him. That part she had yet to learn.

He ordered the broken man to ready her, but she didn't know what that meant. When he bent his head and kissed her inner thigh, she gasped, in surprise this time. He kissed her again, then moved his mouth to her sex. She could feel her cheeks burning and when he kissed her there, she had to force herself not to push his head away.

Her Lord husband stood beside the bed and watched, smiling darkly. He began to remove his clothing and she watched him, not wanting to look down at the broken man between her legs. He slid his tongue between her folds and began to lick her up and down, trailing his tongue over her delicate bud, making her squirm. She remembered him, knew he had been a favorite with the kitchen wenches and that he'd paid many a visit to the brothel in the town. He had not forgotten what to do, pushing her thighs further apart, covering her with his mouth, sucking her tiny bud, sending tendrils of warmth throughout her body, filling her tummy with butterflies and making her grab hold of the bed cover. Arya never took her eyes from her husband though, she watched him still. He stood naked over them, tall and lithe, muscles sharply defined under pale skin, a trail of dark hair leading her eye from his flat, hard stomach down to his erect manhood.

Kneeling beside her he cupped her head, guiding her mouth to his cock. He was impressive, to be sure, generous in both length and girth, the smooth head glistening. She tasted him on her tongue as she opened her mouth to accept him. She had been trained, knew what to do, and yet never before had she wanted so much to please. I want him to love me... She used her tongue, her lips, massaging, sucking him up and down, moving in rhythm with the broken man's tongue. Arya took in his full length, proud of the way she did not gag when he pushed into her throat. She cupped his balls in her hand, kneading, feeling the weight of him, learning him. When he pulled away, she moaned and he laughed, pleased. Grasping the broken man by the hair, he pulled him up and grunted, "Open.."

When the broken man opened his mouth, her Lord husband shoved his cock inside, holding the man's head, making him gag. "My Reek knows what I like... my pet..." He said pulling back and pushing in deep again. He groaned and closed his eyes for a moment. "As will you..." Then he pushed the broken man aside and moved between her thighs. Although she was afraid, she was ready and looking up at him, meeting his eyes, she forced a smile. He fisted his cock and positioned it at her opening, then thrusting his hips forward, hard, penetrating her fully. She felt her seal break and cried out, gripping his arms with her fingers. He did not wait to spare her pain, but began thrusting in and out pumping his hips, taking his pleasure from her. He licked at the tears that flowed down her cheeks, then bent his head to her breast, covering a nipple with his mouth and sucking hard.

When she turned her head slightly, she could see the broken man crouched against the wall, watching. He did not smile, but he nodded, and she took this to mean she was doing right. When her husband hooked his arms under her knees and pushed her legs back to her chest, she began to feel, to her surprise, warmth building inside her tummy. She moaned as the feeling increased and he smiled down at her. "Good girl... that's right..." He slowed his strokes now, longer, deeper, and she felt her breathing growing ragged.

"Please... my Lord...." She gasped, the feeling growing stronger now, a deep ache, making her move her hips against him. He laughed and bent to capture her lips, kissing her hard, his tongue pushing into her mouth, she could not help but return his kiss. Suddenly, when she thought she could stand no more, her body erupted in a wave of nearly unbearable pleasure, contracting around him. She felt him buck hard against her then hold deep within her. He groaned and withdrew, leaving her to lay shuddering beside him. Pushing her aside slightly, he inspected the sheet under her, nodding, pleased when he saw the white fabric had been stained red.

"Where are you Reek?" He looked to the broken man in the corner. "My wife has done well, do you not think so?"

"Y..yes, Lord Ramsay... very well... you are a lucky man indeed..." Came the quick reply.

"My...my Lord..." she said quietly, "I will be a good wife to you, it is my wish to make you happy, always..."

He smiled indulgently and bent to kiss her again. More gently this time. "It is in your best interest to make me happy, Arya. You do not want to see me unhappy, I promise you." He looked deep into her eyes and she shivered a little, understanding his meaning perfectly. She had been punished before. She knew instinctively that any punishments Lord Ramsay would deal out would be far worse.

"Come here and clean her for me." Ramsay ordered, and the broken man came without complaint, licking her until there was no more trace of her blood or her Lord Husband's seed to be seen. "Now me..." and she watched him move to lick her husband's cock until he was semi-erect again. Somehow she found that watching this made her tummy feel warm again and she thought she might not need the broken man to ready her this time.

"Now Reek, go to the cabinet there and get my manacles. Let's show Lady Arya some of our toys, shall we?" He smiled at her now, but this smile was menacing, the predator was back in his gaze and she could feel herself beginning to shake again. The broken man looked at her sadly and rose to do his Master's bidding as Lord Ramsay stroked her hair, softly, gently...

Arya awoke to the sound of the door opening. Damon entered, carrying her breakfast tray. She looked to see that Ramsay had already gone, left without waking her. Damon spoke to her and she answered, but she was distracted as the memory of her dream washed over her. It had been so vivid, she almost wondered if that were her reality and this life was a dream. The castle was a place she'd known so well, that she almost felt she missed it now that she was awake. Ramsay had been there, as her husband... and the other man... the broken one... he was so familiar... 

My name is Arya... I belong to Ramsay... this is my home... there is no broken man... She found herself repeating this to herself off and on during the remainder of the day. It had been so real, she just could not leave it behind.

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