"Stop! Don't hurt them! Please" with Jeyne, Ramsay and Theon?
"Dammit! Silence I said!" The newly named Lord whipped around to throw a monstrous glare at his equally new wife.
"Please! Stop," she cried again, hiccuping between sobs pitifully, "Don't hurt him! P-please My Lord..."
A taunt, false smile twisted his features, gripping his wet knife in his thick fingers; Ramsay gestured to himself, "...My Lord Husband, I think you mean, darling dearest."
Jeyne fell silence, choked up in fear now that the attention was directed at her. The bastard had sticky, red blood dripping lazily down his arms, staining his clothes, and coating his shoes. She tried not to look at the figure bound to the saltire behind the horrid beast she was forced to call Husband. His man-servant or whatever the marred creature was, had skin hanging loosely from his body. The poor thing was pouring crimson, damp muscles exposed to the cold dungeon air.
For a long while the only sound echoing in the dank room was the weak crying streaming from Reek's slack jaw. Ramsay stood stock-still, staring intensly at the false Stark; pale eyes wide with amusement. The tension ended when he swung his heavy arm back to stab his blade deep in his captive abdomen, pulling a blood-curdling shriek from its dry lips. Ramsay left it there l, as if Reek's skin were a sheath.
"Eager to get to the bedding ceremony are we?" Taking a step closer, "Can't wait until I've taken care of some business hmm? How very selfish, my sweet."
"I...I-i..." Jeyen tried to back away, stopped in her retreat by a dingy wooden table, shoved haphazardly in the corner of the underground space. She had nowhere else to scurry, bar moving past her bridegroom, who was stalking forward... large shoulders hunched menacingly.
"Don't you worry...Arya," He said venomously, a hidden accusation, "We shall have plenty of time to do all the filthy things your rotten heart desires...but!" He finally made it over to her, punctuating the excamitory with a ham-fisted blow to the stone wall behind Jeyne's head.
"Until then. Shut. Your. FUCKING. Mouth." He stared, "Unless you'd like to take his place."
Turning back to his twisted pet, he returned to his gruesome work. Unbothered by his bride's soft tears, falling as quietly as humanly possible.
The long night was filled with ragged screams.
