The Fox and The Hounds

The Fox and The Arrival

The last day of the ride had finally come, much to Quinn's relief. The embarrassment and wounds from yesterday still ached as she continued riding with Ramsay, never looking him in the eyes. SInce then she had washed herself briefly in a river and regained some modesty with a new dress. Roose was furious when he heard what happened to her and how Ramsay allowed her to be disgraced, he made order that she'd never be left alone again till they reached home. Ramsay had unsuccessfully tried expressing his apologies to her several times for the remainder of the trip but she would have none of it. Soon enough her resentment fed into his own and his gentlemanly act was reaching its end. But just in time for them to reach the Dreadfort. As they rode open the castle Quinn made her first noise in hours.

"Seems it was rightfully named.." She muttered as she peered out her small window. The walls were all grey and looming, with only the flayed man as decoration open them. A stale air and coldness hung over it, much unlike Whitehelm that tasted of the sea and felt so pure. Ramsay smiled at his fiance's bluntness.

"It grows on you." He replied with a hint of humor. Quinn turned to him and gave a bored look as the carriage came to a stop. Guards came to her door and opened it for her to step out. She fixed her dress and hair before lowering herself and taking in the place. She heard blacksmiths at work and kennel dogs howling as Roose and Ramsay led the guards and her further in. Men filled the courtyard, all attending to their duties normally but glancing up every now and then to the foreigner. Women servants regarded her with mixed looks, some of admiration and others of loathing. The later were returned the glares to which they then looked away, noticing that she did in fact see them. All except one broke her discerning stare, a particularly plain girl with her hair drawn back at the sides. Quinn noticed that before she gave a nasty look to her, she had been openly sending lusty looks to Ramsay. A flame of jealousy and possessiveness flickered in Quinn, and only hardened her stare.

"I'll show you to your room now my Lady." Ramsay called to her as she averted her gaze to him for a moment, malice still lingered in her eyes but she gave a smirk. He looked confused by her expression but only held his arm out to her as she walked closer. She locked her arm with his and sent one last smug glance to the defiant low-blood girl, who then looked utterly enraged.

Quinn had settled in within a few hours, placing her clothes into a wardrobe and her blankets on her new bed. She prepared to take a bath as she undressed and sat in a tub much like the one back at home. She was surprised when the servant who walked in was the same one who stared her down in defiance. Quinn dipped her head for her to pour the water and she did.

"What's your name girl?" Quinn asked as she picked up a bar and lathered it on her skin. The girl looked with poorly hidden anger, faking a smile before speaking.

"I'm Myranda my Lady. Ramsay assigned me to you." She said after a moment as she started to wash Quinn's hair in the scented oils. Myranda worked through her hair roughly, prompting the Lady's anger.

"So you're his whore correct?" She asked boldly, feeling Myranda's hands stop for only a moment and then returning more harshly.

"I'm his mistress, yes." She corrected with unmistaken pride. Quinn pulled herself out of the peasants grip and finished rinsing her hair herself. "There were others but they never satisfied him like I do." She boasted, Quinn raised an eyebrow and looked her in the eye.

"Oh?" She asked coolly, though she very slightly felt her jealously returning. The fact that Ramsay wasn't a virgin came as no surprise, neither was Quinn, but considering his whores still remained close bothered her. Myranda smiled at her interest and continued.

"There was one who talked too much, one who got pregnant, one who.. well just bothered me, and plenty others too of course but once Ramsay tired of them we took them for a hunt." She said, giving a little laugh. Quinn narrowed her eyes in thought. Myranda noticed her confusion. "You don't know? About his games?"

"I know he's a flayer and a murderer, but no I've never looked far into him.." She admitted, she wasn't afraid of what she may hear but neither was she certain of the extent of his cruelty.

"Well yes he flays, while they're much alive too but when he wants to have more fun.. he goes on hunts. He gets his bow, his hounds, and his prey." She said excitedly, similar to the crazy way Ramsay did, which concerned her. Myranda clarified. "People. He hunts people."

"I'm not slow. I know what you meant." Quinn said quickly, though she shivered. She would quite literally be marrying a psychopath. She stood up in a rush and dried herself. Myranda rose too, laughing some.

"Are you worried he'll do the same to you?" She asked the Lady as she dried her hair and dressed. Quinn shot a shadowy look to the servant girl before slipping into her silver evening dress. "He might you know, but not until he gets an heir from you and he takes the North." Myranda added. It offered no comfort to Quinn, she scowled.

"He'd never hurt me. I wouldn't allow it nor would my family." She retorted as she put away her oils and bars. Myranda began to empty the water out of a window in her bedchambers. "Besides, I know I can satisfy him." She grumbled confidently. Myranda gave a challenging stare.

"We'll see." She said before leaving unceremoniously. Quinn shook her head at the attitude of the servant. Quinn would've slapped the words right out of Myranda's mouth if she didn't have a second thought of what Ramsay would do to her then. She began braiding her hair loosely by her shoulder as she prepared for dinner.