Chapter 88 - The Ruins of the Dreadfort (I)

"Fear, anger and resentment is usually caused by one's own incompetence, so I suggest you become the best version of yourself so that something like this never happens to you." Tyrion Lannister, Imperial Grand Councilor of the Imperium of Mankind.

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North Westeros, Dreadfort Castle.

"Ramsay, are you all right?" Domeric, heir to the Dreadfort, knocked on his half-brother's bedroom door and asked with a worried tone.

Domeric, like Ramsay Snow and Roose Bolton, had the strangely pale eyes of House Bolton. He was handsome, tall and possessed great charisma. A true knight in every sense of the word. A strangely worthy heir to House Bolton.

"Come in." Domeric heard his half-brother's hoarse, cold and angry voice.

Entering the room, Domeric looked at his brother and saw his hideous face. If he was ugly before, now he really looked like a living nightmare, capable of frightening even the Greatjon of House Umber, known for his courage and bravery on the battlefield.

"What do you want, brother?" Ramsay asked with a cold tone, not bothering to show respect to the Dreadfort heir. His pale eyes were fixed on his brother's face and, as if sensing the pity and regret in his gaze, his already cold eyes became completely devoid of emotion.

Showing a smile that was more ugly than anything else, Ramsay poured a glass of wine for his brother and offered it to Domeric, who didn't notice a few drops of a slightly greenish poison quickly dissolving in his drink.

Domeric, who had never thought that his brother, whom he had always cared for and loved, would actually poison him at that moment, sipped the wine nonchalantly and asked worriedly: "If you tell me who did this to you, I swear I will seek justice in your name, Ramsay. Lord Stark will surely find and punish the murderer who killed your men and committed such an atrocity."

Ramsay's face turned extremely grim at the mention of Lord Stark of Winterfell. Find the murderer and seek justice for him? When had he ever had justice in his life? Every day he was despised, even by the castle servants. His mother was nothing more than an unimportant commoner. His father never liked him.

The word justice and Ramsay were never in the same sentence once in his life. The world has never been fair or full of justice; only you can get your own justice.

"I'll have my revenge." Ramsay responded to his brother's words with a murderous look. "I'll have an army and destroy everything he cherishes and loves. I'll rape his sisters in front of him while I enjoy seeing the look of resentment on his face."

Domeric's face changed as he heard those extremely crazy and immoral words.

"Ramsay, you may be angry, but a man shouldn't do what you said, especially to women." The Dreadfort heir spoke with a firm tone, containing a reprimand. He blamed Ramsay's anger for making him think of such atrocities.

"Besides, as a bastard, you can't have an army. It's against the laws of Westeros and of our liege lord, Lord Stark." Domeric continued speaking, ignoring the increasingly cold expression on Ramsay's face.

"Yes, you're right, but as heir to the Dreadfort and future Lord of the Dreadfort, I can have an army. An army controlled by the fear and horror I will make everyone feel." Ramsay commented with a cold tone. He remembered Jon Snow's strange abilities, including his ability to control people.

Ramsay didn't think that magic could control an entire army. In his eyes, if Jon had such an ability, the young man would be Lord of Winterfell right now. So, since Jon couldn't control an army, he would make that man regret leaving him alive.

He would take revenge, and in an extremely painful way for Jon Snow.

Even though Domeric was somewhat naïve, he understood the implications of Ramsay's words. Looking down at the goblet of wine in his hand, the Dreadfort heir dropped it on the floor. The goblet spun a few times before coming to a stop, splashing the purplish liquid all over the floor.

Just as Domeric was about to speak, his chest began to ache. The pain was small, like a mosquito bite, but it grew rapidly.

Without even realizing it, Domeric was already on the ground, clutching his throat as blood poured from his eyes, ears and mouth. The look of fear, terror and disbelief was reflected on the Dreadfort heir's face. He was still shocked by Ramsay's murder of him.

Were bastards really synonymous with tragedy and sin?

In the final moments of his life, Domeric saw some reason for the stigma that the Church of the Seven had placed on bastards. He, who had cared for Ramsay all his life, died at the hands of the person he loved most. He had pulled Ramsay out of the abyss, but Ramsay himself had pushed him back in.

Pointing a trembling finger at Ramsay, Domeric felt his consciousness cloud over. Then darkness overtook his mind, and he went into the Stranger's embrace.

Looking at his brother lying dead on the floor, blood dripping from his eyes, ears and mouth, Ramsay didn't care and flashed a terrifying smile. He wasn't afraid that Roose would kill him for Domeric's murder. With the death of the Dreadfort heir, Lord Bolton had only him as successor.

If he died, House Bolton would cease to exist.

And for any lord of a noble house, that was completely unacceptable. The Lord of the Dreadfort would put aside his personal feelings for the continuity of House Bolton.

"Oh, brother. Why did you have to choke to death?" Ramsay commented with a sadistic and amused look as he wiped the blood from his dead brother's face, clearing away some evidence that Domeric had been poisoned.

Putting some food down his throat, Ramsay nodded with satisfaction.

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One day later.

Roose Bolton, staring at his lifeless son before him, the Lord of the Dreadfort wanted to roar and kill the bastard who had killed his only son.

But in the end, reason overcame him and his own feelings. Roose couldn't allow the Lineage of the Red Kings to be extinguished at his hands. He wouldn't have the courage to look his ancestors in the eye if House Bolton ceased to exist.

"My condolences, Father-" Before Ramsay could finish speaking, Roose turned and punched Ramsay so hard in the face that a few teeth flew into the air and the Dreadfort bastard's nose broke.

Showing a cold smile, Ramsay ignored the pain in his nose and continued to stare at his father with a feeling of pleasure bubbling up in his chest. It was the first time his father had really looked at him, and he liked that feeling.

"Don't you dare talk to me so friendly, you filthy bastard son of a shitty farmer. No matter what you say, do or how you act, you will always be a bastard in my eyes, and I will hate myself until my last days for having made you the heir to my noble house." Roose spoke with a terribly cold tone, and Ramsay's excited look only inflamed the anger in the Dreadfort lord's chest even more.

Without any hesitation, he stepped forward and knocked Ramsay to the ground. The lord of House Bolton didn't hesitate to start hitting the bastard in the face with all his might. Blow after blow, he threw punches as if to relieve all the anger and hatred built up in his heart.

Roose only stopped when he remembered that he would need the bastard to ensure the continuation of House Bolton. Getting up, he saw that Ramsay's face was now a mixture of saliva, blood and purple bruises.

However, there was no feeling of pity on Roose's face. He looked at the bastard he had sired after a rape and smiled disdainfully.

"Are you happy, Dreadfort heir?" Roose commented with a terribly sadistic and cold tone, flashing a smile that was undeniably reminiscent of Ramsay's. However, despite everything that had happened, the bastard was not happy.

However, despite what had happened, Ramsay smiled and replied in a hoarse and equally cold voice: "Yes, my lord father."

Roose was already dead in Ramsay's eyes, he had already killed the brother who loved him, what was killing a father who hated him compared to that?

Roose, hearing his words, couldn't help but look at Ramsay with a touch of fear. The person who could endure all this and show a smile couldn't be normal, he was a real monster.

But again, even if he was creating the monster that would one day kill him, Roose couldn't kill Ramsay.

Roose just hoped that the Old Gods would be kind enough to let him have another child so that he could finally kill Ramsay.

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