Bolton Rising Part 58 - Arya/Jeyne

The heavy metal door to the cell crashed open and two armed guards entered. Arya cowered on the cot as the first man yanked the rough grey blanket from her grasp. "Get up, whore," he growled, but the look in his eyes made her retreat further, pressing her back against the cold cinder block wall, painfully aware of her near nakedness. Both mens' eyes roamed over her pink lingerie, taking in her full breasts spilling over the demi-cup bra, rosy nipples peeking through the sheer fabric. Terrified, she followed their eyes lower to her tiny G-string, understanding now that nothing more than a scrap of fabric protected her from these rough looking men. Her garters now held up ruined stockings, mud splattered and shredded from her flight through the grounds. This was all she had now. Everything else had been taken from her.
"I said GET UP!" he yelled, looking over his shoulder at the second guard. "Watch the door. I'm going first." The other man nodded and smiled as he backed through the door, closing it behind him. The sound of the locks sliding into place brought tears to Arya's eyes. She knew what would happen next.
The big man came toward her now, unzipping his pants as he crossed the tiny cell in two strides, reaching out to grab her by the ankle, and dragged her toward him. Arya tried to grasp onto the metal frame of the tiny cot, but her fingers slipped over the bar. "You wanna make this difficult?" he chuckled. "All right then. I hear your boss likes it rough." He gathered up a fistful of her hair and pulled her up to face him, his other hand groping her body, squeezing her breast painfully. "You must like it rough too, eh, girl?" Letting go of her hair, he slapped her face hard, causing her to stagger back, and then he caught her by the arm before she fell.

"No, I don't... don't do this..." She looked up at him, fear in her deep brown eyes, and said,"He'll kill you."
The guard hesitated for a moment, his brow furrowed, and he looked at her as though contemplating what to do next. Then his grizzled face broke into a slow smile once more. "He's not coming for you, girl," he grunted, sliding a hand around her waist and pulling her up against him. She could feel his erection pressing into her and the tears began to spill from her eyes as her captor shoved a hand between her thighs, his thick fingers probing her sex, pushing away the tiny triangle of fabric and thrusting into her painfully. 

"No..." she pleaded, not fully aware if she was protesting the assault, or insisting he was wrong. Ramsay will come for me. He's still alive...

Just then the locks shifted and the door swung open. "Sorry mate, he wants her back upstairs," the second guard said, looking at his friend apologetically. 

"Fuck. Now?" He pushed her roughly back onto the cot, tucking himself back into his trousers, and turned to his partner. 

Nodding, the second guard came toward her and pulled her up roughly by the arm. "Right now. You know how he is, best not keep him waiting," he answered, dragging Arya along as he spoke. "I'll bring her up. Don't worry, we've got all night." Arya stumbled along beside him down the dim hallway, until they reached the end of the hall. As they waited for the door to buzz open, he called over his shoulder, "Go take out your frustrations on the Freak. I'm sure he'll be happy to oblige." 

As the door slid open and they stepped over the threshold, she could hear the first guard cursing behind them. She shivered, thinking of the creature who'd taken her from the safe room. He must be the "Freak," she thought. She hated him, and he frightened her, but she didn't wish for him to be abused... he had obviously suffered enough already.

The interrogation room was the same as before, small and dark, with a tiny table and two metal folding chairs across from each other. A single bare bulb hung from the ceiling, illuminating the dismal space. The cinder block walls were painted hospital green, and the paint was cracked and peeling. One wall, the one she always faced, had a window of what she assumed was one way glass. It was cold. It always was, but no one else seemed to notice. 

The guard brought her in and guided her to the chair on the far side of the room. He cuffed her right wrist to a bar on the table, which Arya thought was a bit excessive. She was far from dangerous, and where was she going to go, with armed guards stationed everywhere she turned?

Silently, her guard straightened and turned, exiting the room. She assumed he would stand outside the door until they'd finished with her. Her guards were always on hand after she'd been questioned, waiting to bring her back down to her cell.  

Arya waited, silently looking at the glass, knowing that her captors watched her from the other side. It was always the woman who questioned her, or Stannis Baratheon himself. She thought that the grey haired man, the one who'd given her his coat, might have been kinder, but she'd not seen him since the night she'd been taken. This woman hated her. Arya could see that clearly. Agent Mel Sandre's eyes were full of disgust when she looked at her, her mouth pinched and her voice snide and contemptuous when she delivered her questions. Stannis Baratheon was not kind, but less hateful. When, on the second day, the red haired woman had struck her, he'd shouted and sent her from the room. For that Arya was grateful, but he did nothing more to make her comfortable.

She'd answered none of their questions, and she never would. Each day she would ask if Ramsay was alive, for clothing to wear, and to be released. None of her questions were ever answered, but a blanket had been brought to her cell on the second night.  

Each day her guards woke her and brought her to the interrogation room, and each day the same questions were asked. What was her name? Where did she come from? How long had she been kept by Ramsay Bolton? Who was Ramsay working with? What kinds of business dealings did he engage in? How many people had he killed? How many had he tortured?

The red haired woman entered the room, coming to sit in the chair opposite hers. She smiled wryly and Arya couldn't help but think of her as a caricature of a female villain out of a B-grade movie, even down to the silly accent she spoke with. "You may as well answer me today," she drawled. "Who are you?" Arya looked up, surprised by the change in phrasing.

"I'm no one," she said softly. "Where is Ramsay Bolton?" she asked in return. 

Agent Sandre rolled her eyes and sighed. "Stupid girl. How long has Bolton held you captive?"

"I'm not a captive. I am his by my own choice." This was the question that made her the angriest. She wanted nothing more than to belong to Ramsay. "I want to go home."

"Where is your home then? Perhaps if you tell us the truth, you might stand a chance of seeing your family someday." The Special Agent tapped her pencil on the table, waiting for Arya to respond. "What is the address of your home? Tell me what your real name is. Where do you come from? I tire of your games."
"You know where it is. My home is the place you took me from. With Ramsay. I want to go home." She crossed her arms as best as she could. She did not know the address, she realized. She didn't know where the compound was located. How will I find my way back?
"It's burned to the ground. Shall we leave you there among the ashes? Your Ramsay is gone. Who will protect you? You know that the night is dark and full of terrors." 

Arya stared at the woman, saying nothing. Was it really all gone? Was Ramsay? He can't be. She blinked back tears. She would not cry in front of this horrible woman.

The sound of the locks rattling caused her to look up. The door opened and Stannis Baratheon entered the room, Agent Davos Seaworth a step behind him. The red haired woman stood and stepped aside as Baratheon took the seat across from Arya. "It's obvious she doesn't know anything, Stannis," Seaworth spoke, looking down at her from the foot of the table. "I told you he'd not be the type to let his pets into the shady side of things."

Baratheon sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before Seaworth spoke again. "Girl, where were you kept at Bolton's compound? In a cell?"

That was a different question entirely, and when she looked up at the Agent, there was something in his eyes that made her answer, "In Ramsay's apartments, in our bedroom... or with Ramsay. I sometimes would go into the main house."

Baratheon looked in Seaworth's direction and raised his eyebrows. Seaworth continued, leaning forward, hands on the edge of the table. "Were you ever present during any of Bolton's business transactions? Did you ever meet any of his associates?"

Arya smiled internally. He was giving her a way out of the questioning and she was sharp enough to see it. "Once..." she said slowly. "He took me to meet his father, Roose Bolton." She thought back to the meeting between the two Boltons, of how Roose had insinuated that Ramsay was involved in terrible things. "But I wasn't allowed into the room with them when they spoke about business. His father is the only business associate I've ever seen."

"His father," Baratheon said in a low voice. "Roose Bolton is Ramsay Bolton's only... business associate, that you are aware of." All three agents were staring at her now. 

"Roose Bolton... I think he's in charge... of everything," Arya said, this time looking straight across the table at Baratheon. "He's the one you should be questioning." 

"She doesn't know anything, Stannis," Seaworth said again. "It's obvious he's kept her separate from the... business end of his dealings. Just the same as he did with the Greyjoy boy."

Stannis Baratheon closed his eyes for a moment, then pushed back his chair. "Cut her loose. Take her back to where we picked her up." He stood and turned to go. "And by the gods, give her something to cover herself with."


No one seemed to notice the messy haired girl in the oversized sweatshirt and ripped stockings who stood in front of the government building feeling very lost, indeed. She had been given a grey men's hoodie to wear, so large that it covered her to her knees. It was old and its navy blue logo had almost completely faded away, but it was soft and warm. She emerged from the government facility and stood blinking in the bright sunlight for a moment, allowing her eyes to adjust as people came and went around her. The pavement was warm under her feet, but she wished she had a pair of shoes to wear. 

Spotting a cluster of benches to her left, she wandered in that direction. Arya chose the most out of the way bench and sat in the furthest corner, pulling her knees up to her chest under her sweatshirt. She wrapped her arms around herself, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. She had no money, and she didn't know where she was, or how to get home. She didn't even know if she had a home. Ramsay. It felt as though her heart was being ripped from her chest. She needed him so badly, and yet she didn't even know if he was alive. 

Time passed, but Arya didn't know how much. It seemed as though she'd been sitting there for hours, but it could have been merely minutes when someone stood before her bench, blocking the sun. "There ye are, girl. Thought they'd ne'er release ye." Arya jerked her head up to see Skinner standing there, his scarred face smiling down at her. She'd never felt so relieved in her whole life, she thought, as she flew into his arms and hugged him tightly, his leather coat cool against her tear stained cheek. She was safe now; he would bring her home to Ramsay and all would be as it had been. 

"I didn't know you'd come for me... I didn't know anyone would know where they'd taken me," she said breathlessly. He pulled away and looked down at her, his face gone somber.  

"Aye, it was no mystery who'd taken ye, and where they'd gone with ye. But come now, we've got to go. It's not safe out here in th' open." Skinner gripped her arm and began walking her toward the car park. Arya came along without protest. Skinner would take care of her she knew. Ramsay's Boys were loyal to the death. They stopped beside a black SUV and Skinner opened the passenger door for her, helping her inside. As he climbed in behind the wheel, he looked over at Arya. "Buckle yer seat belt, girl. I cannae say what we might encounter along the way."

"Are we going home?" she asked, putting her seat belt on as she'd been told. Skinner didn't answer right away as he navigated the car into the stream of traffic. She waited for several moments before he replied.

"Not exactly. The compound is no longer inhabitable. We're headed north. The Boss has property there, a place called Winterfell. The place inna in the best of shape, neither. But it'll have tae do."

She felt tears welling in her eyes again. If Ramsay were... gone... Skinner would have said so, already... wouldn't he? But he hadn't said. She couldn't stand to wait any longer. "Skinner... is Ramsay..." She choked back a sob, unable to say it out loud.

"I cannae say fer certain, girl. His father's people had taken 'im, but I don't believe 'at Roose Bolton would kill his only heir. At least not until he's got another tae replace him." He looked over at her and took her hand in his. "Listen, Clegane's gone tae bring 'im back. He's a right stubborn beast, Clegane. He ne'er gives in to anything. He'll get 'im out."

Skinner's cell phone rang and he answered, speaking to what must be one of the other Bastard Boys. The sun was going down and she let her head fall back against the headrest, breathing deeply. She was so tired, and so full of fear. All the relief that she'd felt at being rescued was gone now, her worry for Ramsay settling onto her like a great weight. Arya closed her eyes and found that she was praying. She couldn't remember the last time she'd prayed, but she prayed now to the old gods, the new gods, to anyone who might be listening. Please keep my love safe... please bring him back to me...

"Wake up, girl," Skinner said softly, unbuckling her and lifting her from the car. She'd been sleeping it seemed, for a very long time, as the sun seemed to be on the rise. She could have walked, but she let the big man carry her into what appeared to be a large grey manor house. She could see as they approached that at least one wing of the place had suffered some fire damage, however, she was unable to tell how extensive the damage had been. They were entering from the back and Skinner set her on her feet in a cavernous kitchen which seemed to be fully intact. 

"There you are. It fucking took you long enough to get up here," a deep voice growled from the next room. Damon entered the kitchen, his face breaking into a rare smile when he saw Arya. She ran to throw her arms around his neck and he scooped her up, crushing her to his chest.  

"I'm glad you're safe," Damon whispered before letting her slide to the ground. He nodded in Skinner's direction. "There's coffee over there. And we've got a few of the rooms cleaned out if you need to crash out for a while."

Skinner went to find mugs and poured coffee for himself and for Arya. She didn't really care for coffee, but she accepted the mug, adding sugar and quite a bit of milk. She sipped the hot liquid and it was surprisingly good.  

"Where is everyone?" Arya asked, noticing how quiet it was. She'd noticed two other vehicles outside near the garages, but the compound seemed strangely quiet.

"Luton's asleep upstairs. We've been taking turns keeping watch since Skinner left. Clegane went after the Boss." Damon looked at her and she could see his dark eyes were weary. "There's no one else left." Arya bit her lip, not knowing what to say. She was saddened to hear that they'd lost men. Ramsay's boys were as close as brothers and twice as loyal. And she knew all too well that fewer men meant they would need to be twice as careful in order to stay safe.  

"I'm fecking starving," Skinner said, breaking the silence. He went and rifled through the refrigerator, removing eggs, butter, bacon and sausages. She suddenly realized how hungry she was and how long it had been since she'd eaten, and how tired Skinner must be after driving all night long.

"Let me help?" she asked, picking up a loaf of bread from the counter and bringing it to the kitchen island with the rest of Skinner's hoard.  

"Aye." Skinner nodded. She began to cut thick slices of bread while he rummaged through cupboards until he found a skillet and Damon went to rouse Luton from his sleep shift. All the time she cooked, throughout their breakfast and beyond, Arya's thoughts never strayed from her silent prayer. Please keep my love safe... please bring him back to me...


  1. Replies
    1. You've escaped yet another flaying with your kind words. Thank you for your loyalty to House Bolton, wench.

  2. Took long enough and I can't believe the Bastard Boys are gone. Please update soon

    1. Don't pester me for updates, wench. I've got raping and flaying to do! ~ Ramsay

  3. I remember one thing that Roose said to Ramsay in ''A dance with dragons'': ''All you have I gave you.''
    Is it true about the Bastard Boys as it is in the books?
    Did Bastard Boys are truly loyal to Ramsay or everything is just a game? Trick to fool Arya/Jeyne?

    1. Roose Bolton takes credit for everything, but he, himself is a rapist and a murderer. Who will you believe?