WOLF QUEEN | RHAEGAR TARGARYEN

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

A truly gruesome scene that made Bash's stomach turn despite being used to the horrors of war. Seeing men fall on the battlefield was nothing like this. From the looks of it the man on the cross was old, at least past fifty namedays, and he didn't seem to be a warrior or a common soldier.

It was just a farmer that was being tortured mercilessly by Bolton men. Flaying had been outlawed in the North for decades and he couldn't help but wonder if Roose Bolton was behind this or if it was the act of rogue men.

Another scream ripped through the air as one of the men used the tip of his dagger to cut up the older man's little finger. Bash's hand clenched around the hilt of his sword, fighting the urge to interfere.

His gaze focused on the torturer instead and he couldn't help but notice that his clothes looked nicer than the rest of the men's. He was big boned and slope shouldered. His face was only visible in profile but Bash could see that his skin was pink and blotchy and his nose broad.

That's when he turned to look at his men and Bash could see sadistic smirk on his wormy looking face. It was easy to see how much this man enjoyed bringing pain to others.

"Lord Bolton," one of the soldiers said, "This man knows nothing. We should-"

"Tell me, who gives the orders here?" the man referred to as Lord Bolton asked and Bash frowned. Roose Bolton only had one heir, Domeric, and he died years ago. But then he remembered the rumours about the Lord of Dreadfort's bastard that technically wasn't a Bolton just like he wasn't a Baratheon.

"You do, M'Lord," the soldier bowed his head in submission, clearly frightened that he would be the next one hanging on the cross if he continued.

"Exactly - and I think our friend here knows more than he says. Isn't that right," the Bolton Bastard turned back to the poor farmer that was whimpering, barely holding onto his life. "You know where the Stark boys and Lannister girls are, don't you?"

"N-no!" the farmer whimpered, "I don't kn-ow anything - M'Lord! Pleas-e! Have mercy!"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," the Bolton Bastard circled around him like an animal, "One should not lie - it's a terrible crime. And everyone knows that if you commit a crime you have to be punished. The question is how - or perhaps you don't know where the Stark boys are - but maybe that sweet daughter of yours does."

"No! Not her! Not my daughter!" the farmer cried, "I swear, we don't know anything! Just-" he cut himself off.

"Just what?" the Bolton Bastard walked closer, using his dagger to slowly make a cut across his ribs. "Tell me and I promise you - the pain will end."

"All I - I know - is that I saw some children - a big man and - and a woman with some big - huge - dogs a fe-ew days ago," the farmer sobbed and Bash froze completely. This man had seen his sisters and cousins.

"Where were they heading?" the Bolton Bastard asked, his wicked smile only widening for every second.

"North! Towards Queenscrown!" the farmer yelled, losing the last bit of strength he had.

"Wonderful," the Bolton Bastard cooed, "Now the real fun can begin."

Bash forced himself to look away when the Bolton Bastard started to flay the farmer. All he wanted to do was help the older man but Bash knew he was outnumbered so even if he managed to surprise and kill a few of them he would be killed.