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It was dark. Startlingly dark. The cold that had been biting at his fingers had abated. No longer was it numb. No, instead there was a burning. All over his body, a burning pain like exposed skin a hundred fold lingered. He was certain that it should have overwhelmed him. For some reason, it didn’t, instead leaving him right at the edge of his mettle.
Then, suddenly, Ramsay could see. And he wished he couldn’t.
Around him, he saw men in various stages of being flayed, hanging in the manner of his house. That wasn’t the problem. Normally he took such delight in it all. No. The problem was that they were all him . It was himself, at various points of being skinned. Each of them had a man, woman, child all seeming to tend to them in various sorts of unmerciful ways.
Every thing he’d ever inflicted on someone was being inflicted on versions of himself. A couple of them he recognized as favorite toys of his that he’d tired of after a few months of fun. Ramsay could see them scratching in his names for them into the freshly exposed muscles.
It was entirely fun when Ramsay was doing it. Now, seeing it on himself, it wasn’t so much fun.
“Hello.”
Ramsay felt some relief at the voice to his left. Reek . His pet. His loyal pet.
Ramsay tried to speak, but found that blood began pooling in his mouth as he opened it. A hand forced his mouth close. A protest that was on his tongue was swallowed when he saw his Reek.
Except, well, he was no longer Reek. To Ramsay’s annoyance, he seemed to again be Theon Greyjoy. Gone was the ducking pitiful need to fulfill Ramsay’s every whim. The disappointment in his gut was strange. He normally didn’t feel that with any of his pets.
“Where…?” he managed to gasp through bleeding raw lips.
“We’re dead.” Theon said it so casually that Ramsay felt insulted. He reached out and stroked Ramsay’s cheek, sending intense pain through his head and trailing blood along Theon’s hand. “Shhhh. Hush now. Now isn’t the time for you to talk. No, now is the time for you to listen.
“You see, you’re getting your castigation. Your repentance for all of your misdeeds in your life. The gods saw fit to grant us all the right to give it to you.”
Gods? Ramsay spit blood out of disgust, getting some on Theon’s clothes. Gods, myths to try and keep weak peasants in line. Why would he bother to believe in them?
...Except, now, he didn’t really have a choice. Something had tied him down, stripped him of his flesh and split him into sections for others to tear apart. There wasn’t anything he could do about it. He would curse them if he ever knew what gods they were.
“Now now, don’t be like that,” Theon said, wiping at the spots on his clothes. “This is a time of celebration!”
Ramsay couldn’t help but give him a flat, confused look.
“It’s simple.” Theon reached behind Ramsay and grabbed something. To Ramsay’s interest and mild horror, it was his own flesh, seemingly cut out as a tailor would a nice set of clothes. “I’m going to sew this on one little piece at a time.” Again Theon reached over and stroked Ramsay’s cheek. The look in his eyes was manic, perverse...even obsessive. “I’ll remake you until you’re perfect. Then we can be together.”
Ramsay began to struggle against the bonds. The pain that should have numbed stubbornly stayed put as if he’d been freshly flayed. He could feel the blood from the ropes fraying against his raw flesh drip down his arms.
“Don’t be like that!” Theon tsked. It was clear he was enjoying every second of it. “Every little stitch I put in will be of love! We’ll never have to be apart again.” He placed the flap of flesh against Theon’s face. “Time to begin. Are you ready?”
Ramsay screamed out, pulling away from Theon’s grip. Theon easily pulled him back and smiled warmly.
“Good to hear.”