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-Chapter 91-
🕑 Added 2025-01-13 22:20:48 +0000 UTC-Chapter 91-
-21st day of the 2nd moon, year 301 AC-
-POV Roose Bolton-
“Please… wa… ter.”
I shook my head as the young “queen” begged me for water in the pigpen.
“It’s not wise to keep her alive. We should get rid of her quickly,” said my son, frowning, as he wanted to kill the foreign whore of our late “king” in a way that… I did not approve of.
'That none of us would approve of' I thought, watching Rickard Karstark glare at my bastard for his words, unaware of what truly lay behind them.
'He’s too impatient. He needs to learn his place' I thought, signaling with my eyes for him to be silent and step back, before turning my attention to Rickard Karstark, who had also looked away from my bastard once the latter retreated, head bowed.
“He is young, but he will learn,” I said, without casting a glance at my cruel bastard, who was waiting for my command to torture the young woman to the brink of agony.
“I hope for your sake he does. He is your last son, after all,” replied Rickard, without delving further into the matter, as he turned back to our prisoner.
“What do you suggest we do with her?” I asked, gesturing toward the woman with a slight nod of my chin.
He hesitated for a moment before shrugging and answering:
“Do with her as you wish, as long as we leave quickly.”
I nodded, taking his lack of an answer as tacit approval of whatever I might choose to do.
I watched him walk away without a word, then turned to Ramsay.
Before I could speak, he said:
“Who does he think he is? We are…”
“We are nothing,” I cut him off, casting a disdainful look at my bastard, who already saw himself as Warden of the North.
'Even I am not yet Warden of the North. At best, I am the regent until the King’s official appointment' I thought.
“Forgive me, Lord Bolton,” he said, lowering his eyes, though I could still see the fire in them.
I smiled coldly inwardly, maintaining a stoic expression, and then said:
“Cruelty is a quality I value, but blind cruelty will only lead you down one path… the path to defeat.”
Ramsay remained silent, head bowed, and I looked away from him before continuing:
“This woman is not one of your whores to toy with. She carries the last son of the Stark line, the Prince of the North.”
“A threat to us.”
“A threat to you. I will have been dead for a long time when he might seek to reclaim what his family has lost.”
Ramsay frowned, confused.
I placed a hand on his shoulder and said:
“Even though you are my bastard, you are still my son, the only living son I have left. You will inherit my name if the King consents, and you will continue our legacy.”
“Thank you… father.”
I nodded impassively before adding:
“If this child and his mother survive, and we lose to Ronnet Connington’s army, we will also have valuable hostages—hostages of great worth.”
“I see,” Ramsay said, nodding, realizing that the “queen” might still be useful to us.
“You still have much to learn,” I said, patting his shoulder before leaving the scene.
---
-POV Ronald Connington-
“The news isn’t good?” I asked my uncle.
“Good?!” my uncle replied mockingly, handing me a letter that had just arrived from my father’s spies.
I frowned and took the letter he offered, a growing sense of apprehension gnawing at me.
Let’s hope this isn’t another enemy rearing its head, I thought as I began to read.
The false stag has decided to bring 60,000 lambs with him to destroy the Griffon’s nest.
“The false stag… is it Tommen?” I murmured.
Raymund didn’t answer, but his silence told me everything I needed to know.
Tommen had personally decided to head to the battlefield… as well.
“How does this concern us?” I asked, frowning, feeling a twinge of unease at the news, before adding by way of explanation:
“We are too far to intervene, and we need to secure the passage from the Westerlands to the Riverlands.”
“We are the only army capable of stopping him,” my uncle replied with a slight smile, seeing right through me.
I frowned deeper and said:
“I know perfectly well that we’re the only ones who can stop them, but…”
“There are no ‘buts’ with your father. I hope you realize that,” he said with a hint of bitterness.
“I…”
I wanted to say something but held back.
“You are now the Prince Heir of the Stormlands, not the playmate of Cersei’s bastard. You must act as such, for the good of your people and for all those who fight for us,” my uncle said, cutting me off to put things into perspective.
'Tommen was certainly my best friend and brother, but that was before. Now I must fight for my own, just as he does. I must make Father proud of me' I thought.
“What do you advise me to do, Uncle?” I finally asked.
“Go fight and bring that puppet king’s head to your father. He will be immensely proud of you.”
I sighed, resigned, then said to my uncle, summoning all my resolve:
“I will do it. I won’t disappoint anyone.”
---
N.A : I'm sorry, I'd been writing for hours and the Gpt chat translation was too slow, so I fell asleep on the PC, I was really exhausted.
Comments
sky_demon
Very tragic
