Loki: Game of Thrones

Chapter 94 - Loki's Dreadfort Plans

Loki and Sansa returned to the portis satis tuto, made love some more and afterward, just lay in each other's arms. Loki twirled her red hair on his fingers, and admired the glow of the sun on her skin. "You're not staying here tomorrow, are you?" Sansa asked. Her head was resting on his chest, her one finger playing with the long scar across his stomach. He shrugged his shoulders slightly and inhaled.

"I still have to see this realm to rights, Sansa. And I'm not going to do that lounging around all day with you. Don't worry, I'll be home every night and we'll have our fun then," Loki informed her. She gave him a disgruntled huff, and he kissed her head.

"What are you doing tomorrow? Come on. You know you want to tell me all about your itinerary," Sansa teased and she jabbed his stomach. Loki chuckled before he caught her hand in his.

"I made a deal with your brother and Theon Greyjoy. Since the Red Wedding, and the death of Roose Bolton, the Dreadfort lands are under the control of Ramsay Snow, the bastard of Roose," Loki explained. "My bargain is that since Balon Greyjoy is using his fleet on the behalf of Robb Stark, his son, Theon, gets the Dreadfort lands. I have already met with Ramsay Snow, and he is a little monster, bent on making people fear him." Sansa heard a tone in his voice and tilted her head to look at him. Loki glanced back.

"I take it as you are going to teach him who to really fear?" she posed, a smile playing on her face. Loki smirked back, nodding his head.

"He does not know fear until he learns from a master. That was my job on Asgard, Sansa. It was my duty to ensure that Odin's enemies were silenced, and feared his name. In the end, they feared me," Loki told her. Sansa frowned at this, not really liking the sound of Loki's previous job description.

"Sounds like you were the fixer," Sansa muttered and Loki raised his eyebrow at her. She shrugged her shoulder nonchalantly. "What? I found a John Le Carre novel in the library." Loki snorted and covered his mouth to stifle more oncoming laughter.

"Which one?" he finally asked her.

"Tinker, Taylor, Soldier, Spy. A little convoluted, but a thriller none the less," Sansa responded.

"Read The Night Manager yet?" Loki queried and Sansa shook her head.

"No. Not sure I'm interested in the idea of a man, who manages an inn, becoming a spy," Sansa said and Loki had to laugh slightly.

"It's a hotel, not an inn. And trust me, hotels are way nicer than inns," Loki countered and Sansa mumbled something under her breath as she laid her head back down on his chest. Loki idly stroked her shoulder, rubbing circles into her skin.

"Still, that is off the topic of handling Ramsay Snow. He is a problem that must be nullified before he tries to spread the banner of the Flayed Men throughout Westeros," Sansa stated and Loki had to look at her with awe. She was not the little girl, who was terrified of harming people. She wanted to deal with Ramsay Snow with finality. Loki could respect that and was glad that Sansa had matured so much. "You intend to take him on his own turf?"

"Indeed I do. That is where you make them fear you the most. First you take over their home, and then their minds. Their own back door is the precursor to the psyche," Loki answered.

"So, you want to pierce the veil to his subconscious in order to pierce the veil of the Dreadfort?" Sansa posed, and Loki smirked.

"Indeed. And that plan I must put into action tomorrow," Loki told her and Sansa huffed. "Sansa, I'm fine. You can't keep me cooped up in her no matter how hard you try."

"Are you still in pain from your injury or are you magically healed?" Sansa asked him sarcastically, poking the scar with a tapered finger. Loki was surprised when he felt no pain. As he had thought before, it had been strange for him to be suffering from his wound as it was not around the time of year when he received the fatal injury. The pain was gone, and the uncomfortable heat had vanished. Loki was still scratching his head as to where it had come from.

"For right now, yes. Not a single ache or discomfort. Which means I will be going out tomorrow," Loki finished and Sansa gave him a pout. "No. I'm not falling for that," Loki told her, raising his finger and shaking it at her a little. Sansa rolled her eyes and laid herself down on the mattress, her fiery red hair splaying over the pillow. Loki smirked, leaned down and kissed Sansa's shoulder. She might not like all the hours he clocked, but she would have to accept it until the war was over.

The Dreadfort was quiet in the early morning hours. Some snow was falling from the thick clouds overhead, and there was a slight crunch under the feet of the sentries as they marched on the parapets. Their breath was visible in the crisp morning air, and they whispered amongst themselves at the changes they had been experiencing lately. Ramsay Snow was mustering his men, and calling himself Ramsay Bolton, since Roose Bolton had no other sons to claim. He was forcibly taking all the eligible men from the Dreadfort region, and putting them in his army. He wanted to challenge Robb Stark and make him pay for the death of his father. The head of House Stark seemed like an easier target then the ever elusive head of House Frostborn. Little did the men of the Dreadfort know, but Loki was closer than they knew.

It was a shadow dancing across the snow covered earth. A whisper as it leapt over the wall, barely moving the torches. No footprints were left in the snow and no man was any the wiser. Ramsay Bolton was in his bed chamber, his arms wrapped around his current lover, Myranda. Loki was a shadow in the corner, watching him like a hawk. A smirk danced across his face as he quietly approached the bed, walked around it, and stood beside the new Lord of the Dreadfort. Leaning down, his hand hovered over Ramsay Bolton's head. "You're already insane, Ramsay Bolton. One would think there is not much more a mind manipulator like myself could do to someone like you. But that's only on the surface. I'm talking about pealing back layers of emotional trauma you've buried since you were a child. Your greatest fears are mine to use. Your consciousness is my puppet, and you will dance to whatever tune I see fit to play. That's all you are in this game, Ramsay: a puppet, whose strings are about to be cut." Ramsay Bolton suddenly sat up and looked around his room. The snow was coming in through the window and settling on the floor. He climbed out of bed and went to the window, looking out over the lands that were his own. In that instant, he thought he saw Loki looking right at him, that devilish grin on his face.

Ramsay Bolton blinked and that was when Loki vanished. He stuck his head out the window and looked both ways, as if he expected to see Loki clinging to the sides of the castle wall. Instead, all he saw was the rising sun and the soldiers marching on the walls. If he had looked up, he would have seen Loki sitting on top of the tower. Loki was sitting there, his legs crossed, his elbow on his knee, and his chin in his hand. He watched the rising sun and the rays seemed to heighten the green of his eyes. "Ready, set, go."