Loki: Game of Thrones

Chapter 87 - The Boltons of the Dreadfort

Loki met with Theon Greyjoy and Robb Stark to discuss the plans for taking the Dreadfort. It was still defensible, with men to fight behind its walls, and the task would not be easy when it came to occupying it. "We handled most of Bolton's men during the Red Wedding at the Twins," Loki said as they looked over a map that detailed what troops were left. "That still leaves close to 800 men holding the Dreadfort. Your father is not sparing any men to assist, and Robb Stark needs whoever he can to advance further south."

"So what do you suggest?" Theon asked, looking at the lands that were soon to be his.

"I can do what I do best," Loki answered and Robb Stark snickered.

"Mischief," he said. Loki put a finger to his lips before he smirked.

Ramsay Snow received an official letter from Robb Stark, the King in the North. The letter detailed his father's treachery and defeat at the hands of the Army of the North; it also demanded that he lay down his arms and swear his fealty to the House Stark. He was to forfeit his right (what right Loki had said) to the Dreadfort and acknowledge that Theon Greyjoy, Robb Stark's appointed representative, was the new overlord of the Dreadfort. He crumpled the letter in his hands, wondering how this could have happened. The Red Wedding was supposed to end differently. Robb, Catelyn, and Talisa Stark were all supposed to be dead, and the rebellion in the North was supposed to be a thing of the past by now. Instead, Ramsay Snow learned that his father had been beheaded, Walder Frey sucked dry, and the entirety of the Bolton and Frey alliance dashed to pieces by one man. The most wanted man in all of Westeros: Ser Loki Frostborn! He had heard many things about the elusive knight: that he was in fact not knighted by anyone (but people called him 'ser' out of respect and fear), that he had control of dark magic, and was the best warrior in all of Westeros.

Ramsay Snow did not want to believe that. Granted, his highest skills were all in the 'backstabbing' area, and he heard that Loki bested the Mountain, the Hound, and Ser Jaime Lannister in open combat. Ramsay Snow looked at his father's captains, who were now his captains and frowned. "What has been done to stop this new threat?" Ramsay Snow asked.

One of the men swallowed before saying, "We haven't done anything, my lord." Ramsay Snow made a face, his brow furrowing and his mouth opening and closing for a second.

"And why haven't you?" he asked, the outrage clear in his voice.

"Because every single spy we've sent out has had his head sent back," the man answered, the fear very apparent in his expression.

"Who do you fear more: me or that sells-sword?" Ramsay asked.

"Oh, it better be me," said a refined voice, and all the men jumped a mile. A laugh filled the cold stone hall, and the torches were snuffed. All the men drew their weapons, glancing around quickly and wondering where their foe would emerge. "What a bunch of frightened rabbits, you all are," the voice said again. The men of the Dreadfort spun around, all their swords raised, and their breathing labored in their terror. "I've chopped off some of your little rabbit heads and mailed them to you. Just as a formality. Don't want any word getting out," the voice continued before everyone turned and saw Loki walking down the center of the table. He nudged a goblet of wine with his foot as he past it and it tipped over. The red contents spilled onto the table, drenching a map and Loki knocked a Flayed Man over with a clank. Ramsay Snow straightened up, eyeing Loki with all his courage. Loki noticed and sneered, stooping down to look at him closer. "And here is the littlest rabbit of all."