Chapter Text
Reek laboured to get the kennel door open, knees nearly buckling under his weight. The screeching sound of it’s rusty hinges barely bothered him, all senses numbed by the day’s events.
Roose had merely discarded him, slammed the door in his face with a meek ration of food as compensation. Admittedly, the little care he had received from the lord father— clothes, cleanup and supper— was more than Ramsay had ever given him, but Reek was still shaken. He couldn’t for the life of him figure why, he had gone through way worse during his time with the Boltons. Ramsay had been much crueler, much more visceral in his treatment of Reek, yet he was just as lost for words as the first time the bastard had put a hand on him.
Reek let the kennel gate close behind him, the dogs just as stirred as ever, barking threats at his person as he let himself collapse on the frozen dirt floor. As he huddled in on himself he was met with a strange, foreign sensation, thought lost to time. It frightened him, nearly waking him from the daze that clouded his mind. He was warm.
____
The break of dawn drew Reek out of his slumber, limbs stale and swollen as he struggled to get up. If it were up to him, he would have remained in his kennel, curled up in his corner until someone forced him out, or until dusk sang him to sleep anew. Nevertheless, he knew what was best for him, and cowering in his enclosure was sure to bring even further misfortune upon him. He adjusted his fur tippet, allowing himself to relish in it’s warmth, affording a split second of contentment before locating his rickety broom, endeavouring out into the castle courtyard for his usual morning sweep.
The morning air was biting, but calm, still in the way that only morning air could be. He was up early, like usual, not a soul in sight out to bask in the first rays of sunshine as they bore their way over the walls of winterfell. The sight was nostalgic, tugging at memories of times long past, times in which he might’ve been brought cheer by this tranquility.
Reek lowered his head, devoting himself to his chores. Sweeping frosted leaves and branches into little piles did wonders in keeping his racing mind at bay, and he quickly found his thoughts clouded by focus. He was unsuspectedly jerked out of his trance by a familiar, taunting voice.
“Up bright and early, I see!” Damon sauntered across the yard, hand placed merrily at the hilt of his whip. Reek cringed into himself at the sight of the man, his face being among the last he wanted to be confronted with that morning. Flashes of what happened the day before flickered in his mind, and Reek seriously debated his options for escape.
Damon caught up to Reek, nonchalantly leaning against a bannister as he examined the tethered man. Reek found his gaze revolting, but opted for silence as he pretended to suddenly be really invested in sweeping.
“What’s the matter, Reek? Why so mmmeek~?” Reek wanted to dry heave, to scoff at Damon, who probably found himself exceedingly smart for that wordplay. Reek was, however, aware of his disadvantaged position and simply shrugged, opting to bite his tongue. Damon seemed disgruntled by Reek’s silence, abandoning the bannister to approach the other further.
“Why so quiet, huh?” Never ending questions. If Reek felt like answering him, he wouldn’t have been silent in the first place. Of course, Damon didn’t seem to realise that, or perhaps he did. Maybe he woke today, feeling like picking a fight over something minuscule, and Reek proved an excellent target. Reek backed as Damon approached, wanting anything but to be stood face to face with the man. “Where you going, huh?” Damon kept on persisting, diverting his attention to Reek’s attire. “Where did you get all this? Did you steal them?” He snarled, giving Reek’s shoulder a rough push, causing him to stumble slightly. Reek’s grip around his broom shaft tightened, hoping to use it as a barrier if push came to shove as he figured he’d run out of space to back into shortly.
In that he was quickly proven right, bumping his back into a wooden stable post. He was just about to turn to find an alternate escape route when Damon’s body blocked his path, his shadow towering oppressively over Reek’s frame. Once upon a time, Reek might’ve been able to match the man in stature, but right now he couldn’t help but cower. He feebly held the broom horizontally to block Damon’s intrusion of his personal space, to which was answered with it swiftly being wrestled out of his grasp with little to no effort, Reek’s strength standing to match against Damon’s.
Damon leaned in, hot breath rancid as it brushed Reek’s cheek. “Tell me… aren’t you lonely out here, Reek? All by yourself, nobody to keep you company in the cold…” Reek pressed agains the post, turning his head towards the side as he avoided the question. “Hey, look at me when I speak.” Damon demanded, grasping Reek’s jaw as he forced him to face him. Damon’s deep eyes bore into Reek’s, wordlessly interrogating him, harsh gaze tearing at his defences.
Damon examined Reek, gaze running along the small part of Reek’s neck that wasn’t covered by the tippet before his mouth split into a cocky grin, eyes sporting a devilish gleam. Reek, not having said anything throughout the whole encounter, was quickly given a reason for words as he felt a hand snake down his body, uninvitedly pawing at his frame.
“W-wha-“ Reek stammered, his pathetic attempt at a struggle being answered by Damon shifting his grasp of Reek’s jaw to now encompass the low of his palm pressing down on his throat, pushing Reek’s throat and head hard against the post behind him, but still allowing him to breathe. Reek’s hands endeavoured to pull at the hand, attempting to break free from the light chokehold. When Damon’s other hand began snaking too low for Reek’s liking, his hands were directed there, trying to push his violating touch away. “S-stop-!” He threw out the word, it’s meaning lost to time by this point.
Damon simply applied more pressure to his chokehold, instantly making Reek stop his attempts to stop his touch. Damon leaned in as Reek croaked against his grasp, actually beginning to struggle to breathe. “Shhh…~” He cooed in his ear, a sly side-eye examining the struggling man under him as he reached his crotch, beginning to circle his fingers over the cloth.
“I know you want it…~” Damon taunted, earning a whimper from Reek as he applied more pressure to the area. “I see the way you look at me… there’s a tenderness in your eyes. One you don’t hold for anyone… not even Ramsay.” Reek winced at his words, shame engulfing him as he found it hard to deny him.
“Y-you’re wrong..-“ Reek spat his words, struggling further against Damon’s grasp. He sobbed as he felt a pair of fingers begin to unlace his breeches and the grip around his throat constricted even further.
“Don’t try to lie to me~” Damon taunted as he leaned in further, repulsion spreading through his body as Damon’s chest pressed flush against Reek’s, his their cheeks touching as Damon nose nuzzled into his matted hair. “You loved it yesterday, you loved feeling my fingers on your greasy cunt-“ Damon was just about to snake his cold fingers down Reek’s breeches when a nearby door opened up into the courtyard.
A lone soldier stepped out, assumedly about to embark on his morning duties when he spotted Damon and Reek in the near distance. Damon loosened his grasp of Reek, stepping away slightly as the man approached. Reek took this opportunity to flee, being noticed by Damon right as it was too late to stop his escape. “Alright, what’s all this, then?” Reek was able to slip out of sight just as he heard the beginning of the soldiers interrogating questions.
_____
The clattering commotion was overwhelming, but a welcome refuge for Reek. Bolton men rarely frequented the kitchens, which made a perfect camp for someone, like Reek, looking to avoid being confronted by their mugs. He had learnt that roaming around too much only brought discomfort to the women working there, so he preferred standing in the corner, keeping both his presence and stench contained in one place. That way, none of the women would complain of his being there, and would even outfit him with a chore or two on occasion, so that he could be of some use.
Today the head kitchen maid, a stout woman of middle age, had tasked him with peeling the potatoes for the soldier’s rations, and he was contently working away, hunched on a short stool with a filthy apron tied securely around his waist, discarding the potato peel into a wooden pail. The previous encounter with Damon still gnawed at his conscience, but he was sure he’d be able to evade the man for the rest of the day if he remained here, hidden and unremarkable in the corner.
Every now and again he caught glimpses of the women as they worked. Previously, the mere sight of them would pain him, remind him of what he was lacking, but that initial dread had now subsided, and he couldn’t help but examine closely them as they scurried around. He revelled in seeing their focus, listening in on their conversations, taking part in their relationships with each other as an outside spectator. Their tenderness amazes Reek, their capacity to such compassion towards each other, despite their circumstance. No woman under Bolton rule was truly happy, and he reckoned many of their experiences mirrored his. But they found comfort in each other’s company, escape in their work. Though he knew his place, he longed to be apart of them.
Reek glanced down at the current potato he was working on, his focus momentarily halted. His breathing progressively hastened as he watched himself move the knife, digging under it’s skin, peeling, flaying... he swallowed. His hands trembled as he stopped in his tracks, removing the knife. He felt himself slip, but thankfully caught himself in time and took a deep breath, focusing on the rich smells around him. Grounded himself. The constant worry of encountering Ramsay or his men loomed overhead like a starved hawk, but here he was safe, warm in his new clothes.
Reek was quite suddenly awoken from his reminiscing as he noticed all surrounding conversations dying down, the room suspended in an inexplicable silence apart from some simmering pots and the sound of footsteps.
Reek didn’t have time to look before someone backhanded the vegetable and knife out of his hands. The blade graced his palm as it was shot away, superficially slicing the skin before clattering onto the ground. Reek felt the warm, crimson blood begin to leak out of the gash as he looked up in horror to meet the strained gaze of Ramsay Bolton, icy eyes blistering in rage.
“So it’s true!” Ramsay exclaimed. “My men weren’t lying.” A thousand thoughts swirled his head as he tried to make out exactly what Ramsay could have been aiming at. “M-milord I-I-“ he began, desperately trying to string together a coherent sentence. “I-I don’t know wh-what you’re talking about-!” Ramsay grabbed Reek by the collar of his new clothes, lifting him to his feet.
“Stop lying, you worm.” He spat. “Who gave you those clothes?”
Reek’s chest filled with a twisted sort of relief, thoughts flashing to his previous encounters, happy beyond words that Ramsay seemed ignorant to them for now. Luckily, the fur tippet reached up over Reek’s neck, concealing the bruises left over from the night before, and a slight spark of hope that he might go unpunished for the lord father’s actions lit within him. A slight shake from Ramsay brought Reek back to the moment at hand, and he realised he had to come up with an explanation, and that fast.
“I… uhm… a Bolton… officer gave them to me…” Reek groaned internally at the blatancy of his lie, but it was too late to change his answer now. He felt the grasp around his collar lessen before he was let go, and Ramsay’s venomous, piercing eyes seemed to soften.
“Oh, well then.” He hummed, brushing some dust off of Reek’s apron before placing a hand on his shoulder. “Nevermind. Just came to check up on you, haven’t seen you all day.” Ramsay’s sudden flowery smile unsettled Reek deeply, his unnatural shift in countenance alarming.
“My Reek.” Ramsay hummed, his hand cryptically squeezing Reek’s shoulder one last time before leaving the kitchens. The continued silence of the surrounding women told Reek they were on the same page as him, and he was suddenly painfully aware of his slashed palm.
_____
The sun set on the keep, and Reek had finally dared to scurry out of the kitchens. The day’s events left him too tired to ruminate much on them, longing to sink into his usual corner and rest his aching body. The gate to the kennels was already open when Reek arrived. Although strange at first, he relished in the convenience, less strain for him to try to get it open. Ignoring the barking of Ramsay’s bitches just like he’d done many times before, he stumbled down the dusty hall. Reek reached the end of the array of cells, his body shivering in relief as he was finally about to put the day to an end. His heart sank when he felt something wrap around his throat from behind.
He kicked, flailed and screamed the whole way across the courtyard, being dragged by his hair. The world was a blur, and although familiar, he couldn’t will himself to distinguish the voice of the man who had seized him. He caught glimpses of where he was headed, dread filling his stomach.
It was nearly impossible to get down the stairs as he was dragged by his scalp, tripping over his own feet on several occasions. The walls were covered in ice and frost, melted in the few places torches burnt, luminating the snaking dungeon halls. The steady, echoing drip of water filled his racing mind, singing Reek’s requiem as he was pulled to his doom.
The merciless fist in his hair let go at last, having Reek sprawl forward onto his stomach, a pair familiar of boots greeting his arrival. Instantly, Reek bowed by them, trying his best to appease his master as quickly as possible, hopefully managing to lessen the severity of his punishment.
“Reek.” Ramsay’s commanding voice grabbed his attention. “Stand up.” Reek did as instructed, good Reek, loyal Reek, gaze lowered as he felt the weight of the room push him down. His heart was unbearable, the creature’s whole body beating with it, limbs shaking with each pump of blood. Ramsay reached out, grabbing the man by his hands. An electric shock surged through Reek’s body at the contact, immediate reaction being to pull his hands away, to retreat into a corner and be sick all over himself. Ramsay hadn’t put Reek through anything too heinous yet, but there was no security in that statement. As if Ramsay had predicted Reek’s skittishness, he kept an iron grip of his hands, preventing the man from yanking away.
“I’ve heard some rumours…” Ramsay started, gaze soft. Reek felt his knees weaken, his body beginning to buckle in on himself as the room was reduced to vertigo. Ramsay’s grip remained firm, and Reek depended on it, practically leaning on Ramsay’s steady arms as he laboured to stay upright. He didn’t register it before, but he now concluded that the one who brought him here was Damon.
“I’ve heard that the clothes you’re wearing weren’t actually provided to you by one of my men…” Ramsay continued as he pulled Reek closer, the man uttering choked little whimpers and sobs in response as he tried to remain still. “… but by my father.” Reek swallowed hard, fighting the urge to throw up his stomach contents right then and there. Please, gods. Save me. I promise I’ll be loyal, I promise I’ll serve, if only you’ll spare me.
“Crazy, I know!” Ramsay exclaimed. “My Reek would never lie to me, would he?” Reek swallowed once more, trying to be rid of the dryness festering in his throat, the taste of bile growing evermore persistent.
“N-no… never, milord.” Reek stuttered.
“That’s exactly what I said!” Ramsay laughed. “Even more, these rumours allege that you did something unspeakable to obtain them.”
Ramsay pulled Reek even closer, placing a gentle hand on his trembling cheek, caressing his pet softly before leaning in to whisper in his ear. “They say you fucked him.”
Reek doubled over, sinking to the floor as Ramsay kept the hold of his hands. Trembling and sobbing, Reek realised he was done for, the sounds of his crying filling the spacious chamber. Ramsay loomed over him, smirk menacing as he relayed what would happen next.
“Although, I can’t punish you without proof.” He hummed, discarding the fact that Reek’s reaction must’ve been proof enough. “Innocent until proven guilty. Damon, you said you wanted to testify?” Reek hung helplessly by his hands, eyes blurred with tears and panic as he shifted his head to see Damon approach from behind.
“Of course, my lord.” Damon complied, snickering as he played along with Ramsay’s cruel proceedings. “This morning, I went out for a stroll around the courtyard. That’s when I spotted little old Reek. I went up to talk to him, have a pleasant chat, when I noticed something on his neck. I might’ve been mistaken, but it looked like a bruise to me.”
“Oh, I was so worried!” Damon continued, feigning concern. “What if your precious Reek had been hurt! So I reported right back to you, Ramsay.” Damon crouched behind Reek, who was frantically whipping his head back and forth between the two, overwhelmed by both their presences.
“Look.” Damon hummed and undid the fur tippet, folding it to reveal the marks left by Roose. “There we have them.”
Reek despaired, tears streaming freely down his cheeks as Ramsay finally let go of him, letting him collapse onto the floor. His head hung low, curling in on himself as he cowered beneath the two figures above. He remained for a while, drowning in his own misery before feeling a gentle hand on his head, lovingly caressing his hair. Reek glanced up to see Ramsay playing with his hair, gentle smile beaming down at the lowly creature. “To think my Reek has turned into such a whore.”
Ramsay’s touch turned violent, fingers intertwining with Reek’s brittle hair as he was yet again dragged across the chamber. He was thrown at a bloodied table in the middle of the room, lower half of his body hanging off the edge as his head hit the surface. Ramsay was quick to slam his hand down on Reek’s head, squeezing it against the rough wood.
“Which one was it, huh? Which hand did you use to get him up, you little slut?” Ramsay hissed in his ear, only receiving tears and pleads in response.
“I didn’t-! I-I d-didn’t!” Reek slurred through snot and tears, struggling under Ramsay’s oppressive weight. “P-please, mercy!”
“Ohh but we’re far past that, aren’t we?” Ramsay spat. “You doomed yourself the moment you decided to fuck my damn father.” He yelled, selecting a hand for him. He left Reek’s backside, switching with Damon, and grabbed Reek’s right hand, forcing it into a leather cuff bolted to the table, making sure to strap it impossibly tight. The area surrounding the cuff was pooling with blood, and Reek knew some might’ve been his, dried and seeping into the unpolished wood.
“P-please master, y-you don’t understand!” Reek cried, squirming frantically. “He forced me-!” Damon snaked an arm around Reek’s neck to hold him in place from behind, applying slight pressure on his throat.
“Bullshit.” Ramsay produced his beloved flaying knife, running the tip across Reek’s palm. Reek winced in defeat, biting his jagged cheek as Ramsay began the first incision.
“I bet you loved it.” Ramsay hissed, running his knife down Reek’s middle finger, the deep cut producing frantic cries, pleading for him to stop. Much to Reek’s horror, Ramsay discarded the knife, applying his fingers to the gash, slowly spreading it wide with his bare hands. Reek couldn’t contain it anymore, and emptied his measly stomach contents on the table amidst the pain, room beginning to stink of pure stomach acid and half-digested potatoes. “I bet you moaned my fathers name, begging for more. Begging for him to go deeper.” Ramsay sank his nails into Reek’s finger, who was thrashing violently against Damon’s stiff hold. Reek cried out in agony and desperation, vomit and saliva dribbling down his mouth as skin separated from muscle and bone, his finger being slowly and forcefully flayed by Ramsay’s bare hands.
“Promise me.” Ramsay muttered as he pulled the bone of his finger out, the socket of skin being left hanging from his hand. “Promise you’ll never whore yourself to anyone again.”
Reek shut his eyes tight, dry heaving several times as he tried to find his words. “I-I… I proh… prom-mise…” He quivered and shut his lips tight, chin twitching violently as he sobbed. Ramsay leaned over, face nearly levelled with Reek’s.
“It truly saddens me Reek… that I’ve created such a liar.” He stated before raising his knife once again, promptly chopping the finger off. Reek cried out, but his whimpers and whines slowly died down, relieved of some pain with the finger gone.
Ramsay retreated to a far corner in the chamber, the only thing Reek could hear being Damon’s steady breath right behind his ear, the man’s long, Blonde hair brushing the nape of his neck threateningly. A mechanic rustling broke the silence, and Ramsay proudly displayed his most prized possession as he returned to the table. Reek’s eyes widened in terror as Ramsay cranked the crossbow, string pulled taught. “You seem so intent on sleeping around, presenting your gaping asshole to anyone who’ll have you.” Ramsay taunted, climbing on top of the table before inserting the bolt into the barrel. Reek thrashed direly against Damon who held both his arms securely in place. “Figured I’ll give you what you want.” Ramsay mumbled, tone focused as he loomed above, aiming. “But first, we have to make sure you’ll stay in place…” He fiddled malevolently with the trigger before firing, a mechanical creak splitting the air before the bolt impaled Reek’s newly flayed hand. The bolt accumulated enough force to split through the table, sending splinters everywhere.
Reek trembled, voice giving in on him as he tried to scream. His head reeled, hand feeling like it split in half with the shot. He sobbed, daring to glance at the damage. It felt surreal, in between the pain, to see his hand like this, arrow sticking out and blood gushing from the wound. The crossbow’s loud, clumsy crank pulled Reek from his misery once again as Damon secured his other hand overhead, keeping it still once again as Ramsay aimed anew, his other hand was impaled in the same fashion as the first.
Damon let go of his grip, seeing as Reek couldn’t move any more lest he be stabbed with the pain of arrows twisting in his hands. Reek let his head rest on the table as he wailed voicelessly, anguish tainting his breath as he ground his teeth in pain. He nearly didn’t react when a familiar sensation brushed against his behind. Opening his eyes he saw Damon, once more, leaning over him, knife in hand as he ran it under Reek’s shirt, hastily splitting the fabric with it’s blade.
“You see, Reek. Once I learnt of your treachery, I presented a task to some of my men.” Ramsay explained. “It took a lot of convincing, but Damon here was the only one who reluctantly volunteered. Isn’t that nice, Reek? To have someone actually want to fuck your disgusting whore hole?” Ramsay watched as Damon ruined Reek’s new clothes, ripping the woven threads and letting the garments slip off the creature, leaving his emaciated form exposed to the freezing, dungeon air.
Savouring the moment, Damon ran his hand over Reek’s naked frame, squeezing along his thin waist as he inspected his form with a satisfied grin on his face. Reek simply sobbed once more, shame crawling under his skin as Damon groped him. Damon didn’t seem all that reluctant.
Damon began unlacing his breeches, and Reek could immediately smell Ramsay’s rotten impatience, his poorly concealed discontent over Damon’s glee, the blonde ignorant to the lord’s dislike of his abrasive cockiness. Reek felt Damon’s already hard cock land on his back, slowly sliding down to have the warm tip press against his entrance.
Reek choked a wail as Damon pulled his hips onto his cock, feeling his hands tug at the bolts. Without much preparation, Reek felt his walls begin to tear at his intrusion, bleeding healing wounds anew. The tears flowed freely from Reek’s puffy eyes as Damon began thrusting, coating his cock in Reek’s blood. With each pound he felt his hands shift with the force, feeling small tendons and muscles snap within.
“P-please…” Reek choked out between his wails. “M-my hands…” Damon seemed unbothered by the gory display, panting heavily down Reek’s sweat-slicked neck, blonde locks intermingling with Reek’s greying hair. Damon’s hand roamed down Reek’s hip, brushing his thigh before reaching down, locating the irritated scar. He began circling it, but it didn’t do much to transform Reek’s wailing, the agony too great to be overpowered.
Reek raised his head from the table, looking in horror as he saw the rips that had begun to grow in his hands. The bolts hadn’t gone all the way through yet, but the wounds had certainly grown. Ramsay met him at his own level, bent over the table as his icy blue eyes pierced his soul.
“If only…” He began, tone accusatory. “If only you had stayed loyal to me, Reek.”
With that, Damon thrust one final time, spilling his seed deep into the other man. He made quick work of pulling out and lacing up his breeches. Damon went to sit on an armchair in the corner as Reek laid there on the table, Damon watching with disinterest as Ramsay took his place behind the creature, now reduced to desperate whimpers as he fought to stay lucid.
Ramsay undid and slid his breeches down, releasing his flaccid cock. He held Reek in place by his hip, reaching a free hand to dip it into the blood pooling by Reek’s hands. He spread the crimson fluid over his half-hard cock, beginning to foster an erection with the bloodied hand.
Going slow, painfully slow, Ramsay entered his pet, of which had now fallen nearly silent with defeat, throat simply squealing as Ramsay began rocking.
Reek laid there, vision blurring as his head began to feel like cotton. Every thought he laboured to produce obscured, absorbed into nothingness, only feeling Ramsay’s teeth sink into his flesh in the exact spot his father had done the same the day before. “Promise me.” The voice sounded like it came from a mile away, though he could feel Ramsay’s sharp breath on his ear. “Promise me you’ll never betray me again.” No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make sense of the statement. To prevent further confusion, he opted to just agree, to nod his head yes and appease his master. The rocking force behind him hastened, increasing in strength and pace before the rhythmic thrusting faltered. Ramsay finally stopped moving, and Reek felt something leave his body.
Laying there, empty, he felt a rough hand gently stroke a greasy lock of hair out of his face. The room fell silent, devoid of any presence except his own. Dark. Damp. Freezing. Reek felt his blood, hot and thick, seep into his hair, the crimson pools by his hands ever expanding.