Loki: Game of Thrones

Chapter 95 - Game of Minds

Loki walked around outside the Dreadfort, invisible to mortal eyes and not leaving a single mark in the snow. The cold and security of his location allowed him the liberty of changing into his Jotun skin, which gave Loki a sense of freedom. He liked his Aesir glamor. He had grown up with it and had embraced it as his first choice. But, every now and then, the blue, ridged Frost Giant complexion appealed to him. It had certainly increased the pleasure of the sex with Sansa. He had already made love to her in both his Jotun skin, and the Aesir glamor. Sansa had been quick to inform him that the marks on his Jotun skin increased the sensuality and heightened her orgasms. She had ordered him to only make love to her in that form. It made Loki feel better about his heritage because of it. Something else he needed to thank her for. But, Loki turned his mind away from his beautiful paramour, and refocused on Ramsay Bolton. The little bastard was clinically messed up. Loki knew if they were back on Midgard, doctors would be lining up to examine his psychotic little brain. He was not born evil, and Loki knew that. It was a series of choices Ramsay had made that brought him to this stage of regression, and there was nothing to save him.

Loki knew that if the Avengers were here, they would compare him to Ramsay Bolton. Say they were both cruel and heartless, not caring who they stepped on their attempts to gain what they wanted. While Loki himself would admit they had some similarities, he would be the first to say he cared. Loki cared about the few people he allowed inside: Frigga, Arya, Bran, Rickon, Shireen, Tommen, Myrcella, and especially Sansa. Not to mention the fact that long drawn out physical pain was abhorrent to him. And Ramsay Bolton loved torturing people. But, Loki was not about to waste his day pondering the vastness of the universe (this made him chuckle). He was going to spend the day beginning to pull Ramsay's strings, and making him dance. Loki looked back to the castle and smirked.

Ramsay was standing on a balcony, leaning against the railing and looking down at his men training. He had forced many young and eligible boys from their homes in the Dreadfort region to stand in his army. He was waiting and gathering his strength before he started an open rebellion against Robb Stark. He had reached out to sells-swords all over Westeros, promising to pay them handsomely for causing any and all kinds of trouble among the Stark armies. Of course, they were meeting resistance of their own. Loki had learned of the sells-swords, and was dealing with them meticulously. Much to Ramsay's chagrin. If only Loki had a weak spot like normal men. But, as far as Ramsay could tell, Loki did not care about anybody but himself. He appeared to be loyal to Robb Stark, but loyalty should never be mistaken for genuine affection. As far as Ramsay knew, Loki was just using Robb Stark for his own ends. Ramsay Bolton smirked as he closed his eyes. "That's what you want, isn't it? To pretend to be his friend, and then you'll turn on him," Ramsay said to himself. When he opened his eyes again, he was staring down at an empty courtyard. Ramsay stiffened and glanced around quickly. There was not even a breath of wind to disturb the stillness that had suddenly claimed the castle. "Hello?" Ramsay called out, but all he heard in return was his own voice echoing off the walls. It was a snicker that made his blood run cold in his veins.

"Don't assume you know what a person wants from life, Ramsay Bolton. Assumption is the death of many men." The voice was smooth, and Ramsay could tell that there was a smirk. He glanced around quickly, expecting to see Loki standing behind him. Instead, there was nobody there. Ramsay was alone, wherever he was.

"I don't assume!" he shouted back. "You don't strike me as the type of person to really be friends with anybody. And that includes Robb Stark. You're a selfish bastard, just like me."

That was when something hit him from behind and knocked him over the edge of the railing. Ramsay shouted, but he was stopped a few inches from the ground. "Try to compare the two of us again, and I will kill you sooner than I plan to," Loki told him scathingly. That was when Ramsay was just dropped and he groaned as he rolled over. Sitting up, he felt his bones ache as if he had indeed fallen from a great height without Loki stopping him. "Any injuries you sustain here, will drag out into the physical world. I intend to play a game with you, Ramsay Bolton. It's called Truth or Lie. I ask you a question and you must answer. But know this: I am the God of Lies. I will know when you are trying to deceive me." Ramsay spit into the snowy and muddy ground and pulled himself up.

"You trying to make me obey you?" he challenged. That was when he felt a cold hand touch his cheek, and he spun around, his dagger drawn. Again, he was entirely alone.

"I will make you obey me. Never doubt that," was the snide response. Ramsay grinned, waiting for Loki to begin. "Now, Truth or Lie; a simple enough concept for one such as yourself. First question: are you a Bolton?" Ramsay blinked a couple of times at the question, wondering if Loki was shitting him, or if he was really running with it.

Ramsay straightened up and his grip tightened on his dagger as he said, "I am." He instantly felt hot pain slice across his face and there was a stream of blood.

"Lie." Ramsay touched the wound with his fingers and it stung. "You are Ramsay Snow. A bastard. The unfortunate outcome of a rape. Illegitimate in the eyes of the kingdom and your father. Next question," Loki's voice continued. Ramsay could feel his anger growing inside him at Loki's gall. "Are you the rightful Lord of the Dreadfort?"

"As my father's son-" Ramsay started to say before he was backhanded and went flying into a wall.

"You're losing the game thus far, Ramsay. Lie. You are your father's son. The genes are not the only proof of that. Your vicious cruelty can be tied to him as well. But, if the last question was any reveal at all, you are not the rightful Lord of the Dreadfort. Since your father was a traitor to the overlord of the Dreadfort, he must decide a new order for the land. And with my advice, he has come to a decision. Well, you received our letter, so you know." Ramsay pulled himself to his feet and tried to conceal his wince. He recalled that Loki said any damage he took here, would appear in the physical world. Of course, that made him pause and wonder where he was really. He glanced around again, and all he saw was every detail of the Dreadfort he had memorized since he was a child. "Are you capable of defeating me?" Ramsay knew that there was probably no right way to answer that question. If he answered with the intent of pleasing Loki, he would injure his own pride. If he went with the answer he felt like giving, who knows what Loki would do to him. "Are you actually thinking before you speak? Who knew you could..." Loki teased. This filled Ramsay with anger and he clenched his fists.

"I will defeat you, Ser Loki Frostborn! I will destroy everything you've tried to create! I will kill Robb Stark and annihilate the Northern Rebellion. I will become the Lord of the Dreadfort, and I will peel the flesh from your brutalized body," Ramsay swore. There was no response, and no pain followed that statement. Ramsay smiled as he thought he had had the last word. He did not realize what had happened until something gripped him around the neck, and forced him back into the wall. Ramsay reached out and tried to break the grip, but there was nothing there for him to grab. That was when he saw a face begin to appear out of thin air. The green eyes were the first things to form, and then the smirk came second.

"Again, that's a lie. You can't defeat me, Ramsay Snow. This is my domain. I can pull the strings and make you do a little dance for me. Why? Well, partly because it's fun, and partly because I just can," Loki hissed. Soon, Ramsay saw the rest of his face, but nothing else. "I told you I would make you long for something as sweet as pain. I'm speaking from personal experience. And trust me, I know what I'm talking about." Ramsay was gasping for air at this point, and he closed his eyes for a brief second. When he opened them again, all his men were looking at him like he was insane. Ramsay looked down and saw that it was his own hands that were strangling him. He glanced up and saw that he had indeed fallen from the balcony overhead. His body ached and he could taste blood in his mouth from the slap he had received.

"My lord? Are you well?" one of the captains asked.

"I am fine! Continue your training!" Ramsay snapped as he stood up. Dusting himself off and trying to regain his composure, Ramsay quickly left the courtyard. Overhead and invisible to the eyes of all the Flayed Men, Loki sat hovering. His hands were clasped together and his fingers were resting on his lips. He smirked.

"I'm the Cheshire Cat, but, I'm not going to be nice to this Alice. Not nice at all."