#the disgust and rage against the freys and the boltons

[jathun]

still hate george rr martin for the red wedding

[lj-todd]

Challenge: walder frey sr./jon snow

(**eye twitches** You love challenging me, don’t you? Alright, this pairing threw me, part of the reason it took me so long to actually write something for it, but here it is. A/B/O dynamics and angst abound.)Jon sat, silent as a shadow, before the fire of his bedchamber, his hand resting over the swell of his abdomen, lost in the grief and darkness of his own mind. Almost a year of marriage, almost a year of trying to build a real relationship with an Alpha old enough to be his grandfather, had been met with failure. He had been trying so hard to connect with Walder, to build something more than a contractual marriage with the Alpha, that he had missed all the signs.And now his family had lost even more. His brother and Lady Catelyn were dead. Butchered in the very place Jon was expected to live. Expected to raise the child he was carrying. And he’d been locked away in his room during their murders. Kept from trying to save them. Kept from dying alongside them when he failed to save them. If not for the child he carried he would have tried to avenge them by killing his Alpha.“Jon?”

He looked up, finding Roslin, Walder’s daughter, standing next to his chair, looking at him with concern. Roslin was one of the few comforts he had in this wretched place.“I’m fine,” he said quietly, looking at the dwindling fire, the words hollow, repeated so often now that they held no true meaning. “I’m fine, Roslin.”She frowned, knowing him too well to believe that, and she took his hand in hers.“Father sent me,” she said softly, no doubt not wanting to do this, wanting to leave Jon to his seclusion but, like Jon, having no choice. “He’s holding a feast. All my brothers and nephews are here and he…he wants to celebrate.”Jon twitched and let out an angry sound.“He wants to celebrate the butchering of my brother and his mother.” He glared at the fireplace. “He wants to celebrate the slaughter of his wife and unborn child.” He closed his eyes, hands trembling. “And he wants me to sit there and smile and pretend to celebrate with him.”Roslin bit her lip, shaking slightly, before letting out a soft sound.“I’ll tell him you don’t feel well,” she tried to offer. “I’ll tell him the baby…”“No.” Jon stood, though not as quickly as he wished he could, his current condition making that too difficult. “No. If he wants me to be there I will be.”“Jon…”“And who knows, I might save my child the pain of knowing his father.”“Jon.” Roslin sounded frightened but Jon leaned in quick, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.He shook his head, pecking her cheek softly, before making his way from the room and, slowly, carefully, to the great hall. The feast was already underway and Walder barely acknowledged him as he took his seat at the high table, too interested in laughing with his sons and grandsons. All the Frey men, it seemed, were present and Jon felt sick at the sight, wishing they would all just drop dead.Jon sat there, silent, ignored, and when Walder stood, drawing the attention of his sons and grandsons, the young Northern Omega thought about stabbing him in the groin but refrained. He would not risk bringing harm to his unborn baby. As much as he wanted revenge for his brother he could not risk anything happening to his baby.Walder began a disgusting speech, seemingly uncaring that his Omega, his husband, brother of the man he’d helped murder in his own home, was seated next to him, praising his family for their actions. The men all drank of the rich wine Walder had provided and Jon was surprised when he reached for his glass only for Walder to snarl at him about not wasting good wine on a damn Omega. It made Jon bristle but he bit his tongue as the man pressed on.“I’m proud of you lot,” Walder said, smiling, the men still drinking and laughing. “You helped me slaughter the Starks at the Red Wedding.”Jon clenched his hands tightly as the men cheered and Walder nodded approvingly.“Yes, yes, brave men the lot of you. Butchered a woman pregnant with her baby. Cut the throat of a mother of five. Slaughtered your guests after inviting them into your home.“Silence dropped over the crowd and Jon glared up at Walder but something, something in the man’s expression wasn’t right. It didn’t fit wit the bile he had been spewing. Jon saw the rage, a rage that mirrored his own strangely enough, and a cruel smile spread across his husband’s face.“But you didn’t slaughter all the Starks,” Walder mused as his sons and grandsons watched him, confused and uncomfortable. “No, no, no.” Walder reached out to Jon then, meeting his gaze, fingertips scratching at the corner of his jaw in a familiar gesture. But not one Walder had ever used before. Jon frowned in confusion. “That was your mistake.” Walder looked at his family again. “You should have ripped them all out, root and stem. Leave one wolf alive, and the sheep are never safe.“ Suddenly the men began to cough, to choke, blood staining their lips as they fell, clutching their throats.Jon was suddenly on his feet, staring wide eyed at Walder, fear clawing at him, but Walder merely smiled, meeting his gaze and reaching up, peeling his face away to reveal the most unexpected thing.Arya.Arya, through some sort of magic, had just impersonated Walder Frey and, in one swift move, had just brought about the end of the male line of House Frey. She had avenged their family.“Arya,” he whispered her name and the young Alpha smiled.“Tell them,” she said, hugging him, letting him clutch her close. “When they ask what happened here today, tell them that the North remembers. Tell them that winter came for House Frey.”Jon smiled against her hair, realizing that, by killing every Frey man she had left his baby to inherit the Twins. She had given him a front row seat to the vengeance for their family and she had gifted him a keep and control of it.She did not remain in the Twins long after that, leaving before dawn, heading for Winterfell, which Sansa had managed to take back from Ramsay Bolton with the aid of loyal knights of the Vale. Jon wanted to go with her, to be home, to be with his sisters, but he knew he could not leave the Twins to fall to the hands of the Lannisters or one of their allies.It was not difficult to find men willing to pledge to him as Lords of the Twins, many men of the Riverlands had loved Robb, had been outraged by the murder of the King in the North and his family, and saw Jon as a hostage of the Freys who had helped to destroy them. And they were not the only ones. Men from the Neck, sent by Lord Howland Reed, and men sent from the North by Sansa, newly crowned Queen in the North, joined them.Jon, wanting no further association with Walder, with those who had tried to destroy his family, cast aside the Frey name, stylizing himself as Lord Jon Stark of the Twins and, to further cement his control he pledged loyalty not only to his sister as Queen in the North but to Edmure Tully, rightful Lord of Riverrun and his son-by-law through the man’s marriage to his stepdaughter, Roslin.He knew there would still be challenges ahead, the Lannisters would not be content to simply let him rule the Twins, not when he had declared for Queen Sansa, but he would be ready for them. He was a Stark, he may not have been born with the name but, as his father had once said, he had Stark blood and winter had come.

[crowkingwrites]

Bang Bang! (Ch.15)

Pairing: Ramsay Bolton x Reader

Summary:  The Red Wedding happened a week ago. Your boss, Petyr, insists on celebrating the men who “won” this victory, the Red Kings, an assassination group run by the sour-looking Roose Bolton. You, one of Petyr’s favorites, is tasked to find out more about these Red Kings. Who are they? Who are their clients? Who is next?You’re very good at what you do until you meet him. What do you do? Girls like you can’t fall in love. Does the Pretty Bird fly away with him? Or does she ruin the Bloody Bastard and everything he has?

Words: 3083

Read on Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11108982/chapters/28637912

Your breathing stopped. Mr. Kress looked almost the same. His belly still sagged. His glasses fit perfectly on his nose. His wheezing breathing matched the crazed look in his eyes. The men behind him had jackets that had holes and patches. Then you noticed the same patch on all three jackets.

Brooklyn Bridge. These were the Frey Brothers.

They moved forward with their ropes. You went to reach for my phone, but then you heard a gun click. One of them already had a gun pointed to your head. You stopped moving. The other two started to tie you to the bed.

“Oh, I’ve been waiting for this,” Mr. Kress chuckled. The Frey Brothers tied the ropes tight on your wrists and my ankles. The rope was itchy and uncomfortable. They didn’t leave you much room to move.

One of them came close to your face and started to laugh. “Where’s your flayboy now? Huh?” He laughed in your face. His breath smelled of cheese, meat, and liquor. He coughed and saliva projected onto your face. He wiped his nose of the snot that was dripping down his lip.

“Mr. Kress,” a Frey Brother patted your tormenter’s shoulder. “If you need us, we’ll be outside.” Mr. Kress turned to them as they were leaving.

“Don’t let anyone in. That was the deal,” he shut the door behind them. The final click made you flinch. You were alone with him. You couldn’t reach my phone. Your fingers couldn’t reach the extra ten inches you needed. Petyr was nowhere near. Ramsay had been unreachable for days.

Mr. Kress circled the bed like a boar in the woods. His belly swung. His snout sucked air in and out. Except for his eyes, they were wide as ever. They studied every part of your body as you struggled on the bed. The ropes weren’t giving way, but you still had to try. You had to do something.

“Mr. Kress—

“Ah, so you do remember me huh?” he antagonized you. “Did you miss me?”

“Please let me go. We can talk about this,” you pleaded with him.

“Talk? Now you want to talk. Now when it’s inconvenient for you, you want to talk. What about the times I wanted to talk? What about the times I wanted it to just be you and me and a nice dinner? What about the time when you had me thrown out?”

“I didn’t have you thrown out!” you argued. “Ramsay did!” Mr. Kress backhanded you across the face. The sting on your cheeks burned.

“Don’t you dare say his name in front of me!” he yelled at you. “Everything was perfect before he came in and ruined everything!”

“Matthew calm down!” you yelled back. “You have to calm down!” Matthew Kress put his hands on your arms and shook you.

“It was supposed to be you and me! Don’t you understand? Don’t you see?” he started. His hands gripped you tighter. “That blood-raged bastard took you from me. He wasn’t supposed to be with you!” You may have been tied up, but your narrowed your eyes at Mr. Kress.

“You know what I am. I’m an escort, Matthew. I see different clients,” you explained. “This was in the contract. You agreed to those terms. We are not exclusive; we were never exclusive.”

“No!” he responded. Part of his hair fell in front of his face. “That’s not true. You remember the day the Red Kings came? I bet you do. The Frey Brothers do too. Ramsay killed some of them that day. He arrived late, remember that?”

“Yes, what does that have to do with anything?” you asked. Mr. Kress smiled as if he knew something you didn’t.

“Petyr knows about Ramsay. He knows about every girl he’s been with. How he hurts them. Petyr picked out a special girl for Ramsay. He had her ready and everything. You were never meant for him. Your friend Ros was.” You remembered back to that particular rainy day.

“Ramsay,” Roose said behind you. You turned to see Petyr keeping a straight face, but his hands told a different story.

“Hello father,” Ramsay smiled. “Am I late to the party?”

“Yes, but we are just getting started,” Petyr smiled and side-eyed Ros. “Why don’t you join us?”

You blinked. How did you miss that? All this time, but one detail stuck out to you. “If that’s true, then why did Petyr choose me to clean up Ramsay and not Ros? What’s your answer to that asshole?”

Mr. Kress put more weight on you and the bed. His face inching closer. You could smell the Jack Daniels on him.

“Because Petyr had plans for you, Y/N,” Mr. Kress told you. “If he knew that Ramsay was gonna hurt one of his girls, then he’s going to get rid of the ones he doesn’t need.” You felt anger bubble up inside of you.

“You don’t get to talk about Ros like that,” you said in an almost whisper. Your upper lip raised in a disgusted fashion. “Petyr protects all of his favorites.”

“Where is he now?” Mr. Kress raised his arms and looked around. “Where is your protector now? Clearly, he’s not the man you think he is neither is that insane son of a bitch.”

“I bet he’s on his way now,” you smiled. “Ramsay will be here, and he’s going to fuck you up.”

“Shut up.”

“Ramsay’s going to find out what’s happening here—

“Shut up!”

“And he’s going to hurt you—

“Shut up!”

“And gut you out like the true pig you are!” you laughed in his face until you saw the barrel of the gun in your left eye. It looked black and empty, but the threat was still there inside of it. Matthew Kress’s hand shook as he pointed it at you.

“Why don’t you understand?” he sobbed out. “Ramsay is only going to hurt you.”

“He wouldn’t hurt me,” you immediately responded. “And neither will you. You’re not going to shoot that gun. You’re only an unhappily married man with a six figure career that is unfulfilling and depressing. I bet that’s the first gun you’ve ever held. You’re not going to actuall—

You heard the bang. Pain shot from your leg to the rest of your body. You looked at it to see the gunshot wound in your thigh. You screamed in pain. The blood oozed out of it.

“Look at what you made me do!” Matthew Kress screamed. “I left my wife for you!” He put his hand on the wound squeezing it, making the pain intensify. You screamed again, but this time he stuffed a towel in your mouth, muffling the noise.

The white towel drenched with your saliva, making it hard to breathe. You shouldn’t have talked back to him. You watched him panic as he put more towels over your thigh, putting pressure on it.

“It was supposed to be you and me, Y/N,” he started. “I’ve been so unhappy for so long, and then I met you. You were beautiful. You smelled wonderful. At first, I thought I shouldn’t be doing this. Escorts are sex workers. I thought of myself as one of the lowest men in the world, but I couldn’t trade that for how you made me feel.

“Every time I was with you, I wanted to take you away. I wanted to pretend that I was happy for a couple of hours. I didn’t intend falling in love with you. I would get you anything you wanted. Take you anywhere you wanted if that meant I got to feel you afterwards.

“Every time I went back home I felt empty. Every time I go to work, I feel empty. The only time I feel something is when I’m inside you. You make me feel so powerful. You make me feel like I mean something.

“Petyr told me I couldn’t have you. That he needed you. But, I have to have you. Don’t you see? You belong with me. I could provide for you. I could give you a good life. A stable life. You don’t have to sleep with other men anymore. You don’t have to be endangered. That Bolton boy will bother you no longer.

“You can give this all up and live comfortably with me. Just say you love me. Say you want me.”

The words lingered in the air. You should have stopped him long before this could have happened. You should have said something to Petyr. Matthew Kress sat on the edge of the bed, staring at you desperately like a man who needed a drink of water. He removed the towel from your mouth. You could still feel the pressure from your thigh.

Tears came from your eyes and they dribbled down your cheeks from pain. You took in a breath and exhaled. You had to keep calm. You had to stand your ground.

“I don’t love you, Matthew,” you flatly said. You watched him grip the pistol tighter. “I’ve never loved you. You paid me to have dinner with you. You paid me to make you feel that way. You paid me to fuck you. That’s how it goes. I don’t want you.”

Mr. Matthew Kress wasn’t a strong man. You watched him collapse in on himself, sobbing. Tears reddened his eyes. Snot had dribbled down from his nose and into his mouth.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” he whispered. “That’s why. It’s him you love.”

“I don’t love him, Matthew,” you told him. It felt like lying somehow. After all this time you spent with Ramsay. The secret kisses, the client dates, the weekend in Chicago. All of it meant something. Matthew pointed the pistol at your head again. The barrel touched your temple. “Matthew, please.”

“No, I won’t listen to you anymore,” he shook his head. His glasses fell askew on his nose. “I have to do this. I can’t get you out of my head.”

“Matthew, stop,” you started to plead. “Y-you don’t have to this. This isn’t you.” He pressed the pistol harder against you. His breathing was even. You heard the pistol click. He was going to do it. You thought you heard him mutter ‘God, have mercy on me.’

You reached for your phone again, trying to extend your fingers past the bed. Nothing. You were bound tightly. Your eyes went to Matthew’s.

“Matthew, please!” You felt sweat on your forehead. Your heart beat faster each second. He was going to do it. Pleading wasn’t going to work anymore. “Somebody please help me! He’s going to kill me!”

The Frey Brothers should’ve heard that. Surely, murdering you wasn’t part of the deal. It couldn’t have been. Mr. Matthew Kress was a bank accountant. He wasn’t a murderer.

“Someone please help! Help me!” you screamed. You felt a release between your legs. It was warm and, and it spread all over your underwear and the bed. The yellow stench rose to your nose. You felt a hand around your neck, squeezing you. His fingers digging into the sides, restricting oxygen from your lungs. His finger was on the trigger.

“If I can’t have you, no one can,” he said, overpowering you.

You closed your eyes. This was it. No one was coming. That is, until you heard a familiar laughter. It chuckled darkly filling the room with dread. It excited you. You slowly opened your eyes.

“Is that so?” you heard Ramsay say. His white shirt ruined by the blood stains that covered it. You lifted your head slightly to see two Frey Brothers lay dead in the hotel hallway. Their chests covered in stab wounds. One of them had a slash over his face. You almost couldn’t recognize him anymore.

Ramsay stepped into the light more. You could see no bullet wounds on him, but cuts decorated him. One long one on his shoulder. His icy blue eyes scanned your body. He saw your red, puffy eyes and how you were struggling to breathe. He saw how tightly you were bound to the bed. The ropes creating indents and cuts into your wrists and ankles.

He saw your bleeding wound from your thigh, and how it bled through the white towels. Most importantly, he saw Matthew Kress holding a pistol against your skull.

You watched Ramsay smile fade quickly into the worst scowl you have ever seen. His brows turned downward and his nostrils flared. It was like he was breathing Hell through his nose, but the fire never went to his eyes. They were dead set on you.

“Ramsay,” you managed to squeak out. Your fingers reaching towards him. For a moment, you thought you saw heartbreak in Ramsay’s eyes.

“It is true! You do love him!” Mr. Kress shouted. He turned to Ramsay, giggling to himself. “It’s ironic isn’t it? You took her away from me, and now I get to take her away from you. Forever.”

The finger started to pull the trigger and you heard a bang, but the bullet missed you. Ramsay jumped on Mr. Kress, stabbing him. At first it was three different stab wounds in the chest, and then he slashed his face. Mr. Kress cried out in pain. His newly cut skin spread wide bleeding out onto the hotel floor.

Ramsay took his finger and dug it into a stab wound in his chest. Mr. Kress screamed out loud in pain.

“I want to hear you squeal,” his voice grew dark. You watched his blue eyes turn into something sinister. “I want to hear you squeal like the pig you are.” Mr. Kress sobbed.

“Louder, you fat fuck!” Ramsay dug his two fingers deeper into the wound. You watched more blood pour out from it, spilling onto his shirt and then the floor.

“You’re going to get caught, Ramsay,” you told him, eyebrows knitted. Without looking, Ramsay took Mr. Kress’s pistol and stood up.

“I don’t care if I get caught,” he pointed the gun at Mr. Kress’ face. “No one touches you.” Ramsay unloaded the pistol into Mr. Kress. Two in his face, and the other three in his chest. There was no more life left in the man. His left eye and cheek were gone. If anyone could identify him, it would’ve been a miracle.

You felt the ropes being untied and suddenly you felt your breathing grow uneven. Ramsay grabbed his radio.

“I got her,” he said into it. “I’m leaving through the south exit. Kill the cameras.” Ramsay picked you up and carried you out of the room. You took one last glance at Mr. Kress’ corpse. It smelled of shit and piss. You looked at the two bodies in the hallway again. Their guns were far from their bodies. You didn’t want to know what happened to the third Frey brother.

You were going to get caught. There was no way someone didn’t hear that. Someone was going to find you. You felt like you were gasping for air.

“Y/N, calm down,” Ramsay told you as he opened the emergency exit door. “It’s okay. I got you. I got you.” You couldn’t control it. How could you? Your lungs couldn’t get the air they needed. Your eyes shifted around you.

“We’re gonna get caught, Ramsay. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god,” Panic was not the word you were looking for. Fear had taken over you, but this felt worse. Ramsay tried to shush you.

“Y/N, can you walk? I need you to tell me if you can walk,” he asked you, but you were far from him. You could hear security come running down the hallway. You could see Ramsay getting arrested and being taken away from you. And what if Petyr found out?

The possibilities were endless. Every second you tried to breathe was another second you lost connection to what was happening around you. You watched the stairs grow into an endless image, repeating itself over and over.

“Y/N! I need you to stay with me, ok?” Ramsay told you. “We’re almost to the van. Stay with me.”

Black spots appeared in the corners of your vision. Control was the last thing you had on your mind. You felt your body being moved and touched.

“Lay her down. Right there. She’s been shot,” you heard the bastard’s boys say. It was too dark. You felt a hand hold up your neck. Your eyes slowly opened to see Ramsay looking down at you. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he was yelling. His right hand pointing as if giving directions. Your head was in his lap.

“Y/N,” your vision was betraying you. The darkness was growing. “Y/N stay with me. Fuck. Come on, stay with me. I need you to stay awake.”

“Ramsay,” you called out his name again. Your hands searching for his. His right hand grabbed your hand. You looked up to see him. His blue eyes shifted left to right, up and down. They didn’t stay still for a second.

“There’s a red light up ahead!” you heard Ben shout. You tried to get his attention.

“Ramsay—

“Then fucking run the red light! I don’t give a fuck about traffic laws!” He shouted back.

“Ramsay—

“There’s two fucking cops on the corner!” Ben was going as fast as he could, but you could feel the darkness grabbing at you. You looked to Ramsay arguing with Ben. How did he find you? How did he know? He told you before that he had ways of tracking people. Had he been tracking you this entire time?

Did the details matter? He saved you. If you were going to tell him, it had to be now.

“Ramsay,” your hand pulled at his bloodied shirt. Ramsay looked down at you while Ben ran the red light. The two cops pulled out from the corner and began pursuit.

“Y/N, shush. It’s going to be okay.”

“I have to tell you something.” Ramsay pushed your hair out of your face. “Mr. Kress was right.” You felt your breathing slow.

“Right about what?” he nudged you. “Stay with me, now. What was he right about?” Ramsay’s hands shook as he tried to nudge you to stay awake. You looked up at Ramsay one last time. His hair was wildly out of place. His blue eyes stared down at yours.

“I think I love you,” the darkness took over. It grabbed you and dragged you away from the world.