Thramsay (Theon..Reek)

The heavy door creaked open, echoing coldly through the hall. Ramsay entered with his ever-present smile—a smile sharper than any blade. In his hand was a silver platter, steam rising from roasted meat.

Reek knelt on the floor, body hunched, eyes fixed to the ground. Ramsay circled him slowly, like a cat toying with its trapped prey.

— "Reek... you smell of fear." Ramsay drew out the words with relish. "Are you still afraid?"

Reek shivered but gave no reply. His silence was worse than any confession. Ramsay knelt down, placing the food before him.

— "Eat. Smell it. Doesn’t your mouth water?"

Reek glanced up timidly, only for Ramsay to snatch the platter away and spill its contents onto the dirt. The meat scattered in mud and filth. Ramsay laughed.

— "A good dog eats from the ground. My Reek is a good dog... isn’t he?"

Tears burned at the edges of Reek’s eyes. The pride that once made him a prince of the Ironborn had been shattered long ago. Crawling on all fours, he moved toward the meat. Every bite he chewed tasted not of salt and sea, but of shame.

Ramsay leaned back against a chair, watching with a predator’s delight.

— "I’ve remade you, Reek. You belong to me. If I want you to laugh, you laugh. If I want you to die, you die. But as long as I want you to live, you liv