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The sun starts to rise, pink light dusts the snowy peaks but does not touch the chilly grey steps that the Maester of Dreadfort is walking down. Still thinking on the warm porridge he has had for breakfast, he ignores the usual smells and sounds of illness and pain. Nodding to the men he passes, shuffling in his pouches are herbs, potions, lotions and the other items he will need this morning. Whistling a little tune he heard as a youth, he heads into the dungeons first.
He treats two prisoners that are important enough to need treatment. Ignoring all pleas and threats, he works quickly then takes his leave of the hellish dungeons. Next are two servants, one a burned hand that needed washing and lotions. Another with a cold and terrible cough. He warns the servant that she must not handle any of the kitchen duties until she is no longer coughing, though he makes a mental note to not eat anything prepared by others until she is well...he knows she will never get sick time off.
A stable boy had been kicked and will not survive. He treats him for pain, then alerts his mother that he has been injured deep inside and will be dead by tomorrow. A whore needs to be relieved of a "stomach issue" and this is very common here, so he is swift and leaves her to bury her small stomach issue on her own. There are other minor, barely noticable treatments, leechings and then lunchtime. Then it is time to visit a patient that sees him almost more than anyone else. Standing outside of the kennels, he peeks in but does not see Reek. Sighing heavily, the usual daytime search for Ramsay's pet is on.
First to see if the cringing slave is in the kitchens trying to sneak food, next on to the shadows in the hallways, back outside to the barns, little corners that he likes to sleep in and finally in frustration, he heads to the main chamber where Ramsay holds his meetings with tenants, officials and deals out judgements on those hapless enough to go before their Lord. There he sees some cringing folk, standing in line to speak with Lord Ramsay, waiting, afraid, yet determined. Lord Ramsay is seated in a large chair, almost a throne, and finally, here is whom he sought out. Underneath Ramsay's boots, as if he were a flesh and bone stepstool, lay Reek, looking as if he were peacefully asleep, looking...peaceful?
The maester knew this was very wrong, but he knew not to ever disrupt Ramsay, regardless of the situation, so he simply moved forward, trying to get a better view of the very still, very pale, very peaceful looking pet. After a moment, his Lord noticed the maester was intently looking at his boots, frowning he moved them and looked down at Reek, whom for the first time he ever remembered, did not react to his Master's movements. For a moment he filled with anger, how dare Reek fall asleep, as if his beloved Lord's attentions were not enough for him? Then he understood, as icy panic filled him, why the Maester was coming foward so quickly to him.
Kicking at him, Ramsay leaped out of his seat. "Reek! You look at me, now! Reek! I will flay you alive if you do not open your eyes!" Nothing changed, his pet remained still and turning from white to gray. Ramsay started to turn on the Maester. "I told you to check him everyday! Every day! Why is he like this? Fix him now or I swear I will cut off your hands, you useless worm!" Taking hold of Reek, he finds a very weak pulse then tries to calm Ramsay. "My Lord, I was coming to check him as always...he has a pulse, he still lives, but I need to treat him right away. I told you, My Lord, that he needed rest, that he needed to heal from infections before...more damage could happen. He needed food and water, I pleaded with you to go more gently." he grumbled this at his Lord, in spite of the glaring danger of speaking back.
As Ramsay angrily gestured for two men to carry Reek to a table for examination, though honestly, a fly could have carried the fragile wreck of a human at this point. "I fed him just yesterday, some broth and gruel, he was resting here all day, no chores, nothing..just under my feet. Why is he like this?" The maester knew that nothing he could say would matter, so he concentrated on his patient. As he worked on Reek, he could feel Ramsay behind him, rudley dismissing all matters of business, waiting to hear why his beloved pet was so sick. The maester understood that in some twisted way, his Lord truly cared for this creature he flayed out of Theon Greyjoy, like a favorite dog, though he knew that Ramsay used him in ways he would never use a dog.
Afer an agonizing hour, the Maester was feeling confident that Reek would live to see another day, though deep down he thought that the slave would have been more than happy to die. "My Lord, your pet shall live. He needs to truly rest and recuperate however to survive. He is getting weaker, too weak to keep fighting off these infections. For at least a week, he must have total rest, broth and bread three times a day. After that, he must eat at least once a day and water every day. My Lord, I cannot stress enough to you, he is no longer able to take some of the punnishments he recieves. If he keeps losing so much blood,I cannot help him. He will die if he is not cared for a little more gently. I will not be able to keep saving him." Though he is well aware of the dangers of telling Ramsay anything he does not want to hear, he does not wish to be buried along with the wretched creature. "Please, My Lord, I know you wish me to keep him well for you,but to do so, you must simply make sure he follows instructions, does nothing to tax himself for a bit."
Ramsay gave a sharp nod to the Maester, then shouted for a man to carry Reek, both the guard carrying the fragile man and the Maester followed Ramsay to his bedchamber. The guard deposited Reek onto the bed, then left the room. The Maester instructed two maids to bring a tub of hot water and soap. " My Lord, he needs to be cleaned. The infections never heal without cleaning first..and he has too many wounds infected now, for me to just clean those parts with a cloth." With a sigh, Ramsay gave permission and threw himself into a chair, to watch as the maids and Maester struggled to bathe the scarecrow of a man, who was still mostly still out of it.
Reek woke before they had finished his bath, causing a moment of frenzy. Water flew out of the tub in waves, as Reek, fevered and panicked, flailed, kicked, bathing was not allowed, he knew that much, as he wailed at the Maester, actually trying to climb over him to get out of the forbidden bath. Ramsay had to heave out of the chair, knot a fist in Reek's soaked, soapy hair, yanking back so that Reek would see only Ramsay's face. "Reek! Be still now!" Instantly upon seeing his Lord's face and hearing that voice, he went to stone, even holding his breath. Pleased with his pet's reaction and relieved to see him awake again, scared, submissive, waiting to serve as he should be, his voice became calming, honeyed, soothing his little ill kraken. "Tiny, weak kraken of mine, you have taken ill. The maester must have you cleaned to care for you. I will allow it. You will stay calm, you will let them bathe you. Do you understand, pet?"
Ramsay waited while Reek stared at him blearily, confused. "Master, I want to obey...but..I am not to bathe? it is forbidden..?" Tugging harder on Reek's hair, bringing his face closer, his grin so sharp, the Maester wondered if he were going to be treating Reek for bite marks on his face, he spoke in the same tone, but his eyes were no longer soft or worried. "Reek, I have given permission for this bath. Are you trying to reject my special, merciful gift to you?" Fear flooded his little pet's eyes, overflowed and poured tears down the sunken, still grey cheeks. "Master, I would never..I am grateful always..I am sorry...please forgive me.." Suddenly, the fearful, confused eyes rolled back into his head, his body went stiff as a board then began to quiver and jerk.
Instantly, Ramsay lifted Reek out of the tub and onto the floor, then looked to the Maester to fix his pet. The maester waited the seizure out, making sure that Reek had space but did not injure himself futher. After it ended, Reek was dried carefully by the maids, while the maester prepared ointments for the many wounds, herbs for tea and bandages. It took almost a full hour to make the creature cleaned, medicated and bandaged. Then he spoke again to Ramsay. "My Lord Bolton, your pet is almost ready to rest. One last thing however. I respectfully must make a request. It is understood that your pet is to have treatment without relief of pain, however in this case, in order to heal he must rest and not be stressed. If his pain is too severe he will not be able to rest or heal. Please might I give him a sleeping drought and some pain medication. Just while he heals this week." He waits, hoping his Lord will not fly into a rage over the suggestion.
Ramsay was distraught and disturbed. Reek has never been this ill before. Not hurt, he likes it when Reek hurts, it amuses him, it turns him on, he loves that. Yet this was different, ill, unaware of what is happening, unaware of his Master is not amusing at all. He hates it and fears losing his pet, he cannot bear to lose another Reek. He nods at the Maester, he will do what is needed to keep his beloved little broken plaything breathing. Together, they get Reek into the bed, under the rich covers that Ramsay enjoys and personally the Lord poured the pain medication into Reek's mouth. A gentle whisper that was still soothing was rousing Reek again. "My pet, you must swallow this medicine..it is a mercy I am showing you, my little one, so swallow it...very good boy...one more to drink, it will help you sleep, dearest Reek."
The maester watches his Lord acting so gently and carefully with his pet, hoping it will last the week, so the slave will last as well. He gives final instructions to the maids for Ramsay, then takes his leave. He will be back first thing in the morning to check on his patient, but for now, Ramsay could care for him. Tired now and frustrated over the fact that Ramsay had to wait until the last minute to take his advice, then when things go wrong, the maester gets the blame? He calms himself with deep breathing as he heads towards his chambers. There are no major patients that cannot wait a little longer, so the maester goes into his rooms, tries to relax his body, tries to remind himself why he became the Maester of Dreadfort in the first place. After a minute of two, a whimper was heard from deeper in his chambers. He followed the whimper and looked at the small children, tied to beds, though they were way too weak to ever run anyway and he remembered why he was the Maester of Dreadfort after all. "Do not despair little ones...today we shall cut inside and take out the bad parts." Smiling coldly at the scared, dying children that he had infected with diseases he had extreme interest in, he remembered why he chose to be Maester of Dreadfort.