Game of Thrones: I am Dothraki, not a barbarian

Chapter 214 The Death of Ramsay Bolton

Arya looked at him coldly: "Rams, do you think you can fool me like this?"

Upon hearing his real name, Rams's expression changed drastically: "How did you know...?"

Of course, Arya couldn't reveal her wolf dream. She waved her hand, and the pack of wolves began to approach Rams inch by inch.

The stench emanating from Rams was even stronger, it was hard to tell whether it was from the previous application or from the fear he was experiencing. His legs were trembling uncontrollably, his teeth were chattering, and he was completely devoid of his previous arrogance.

"No...please don't..." he pleaded, his voice trembling, "I can tell you a secret, just please spare my life!"

"What secret?" Aria's eyes sharpened.

Seeing a glimmer of hope for his life, Rams quickly said, "As long as you swear to spare my life..."

"Nameria, bite off one of his legs!"

A scream rang out as Rams clutched his bare right leg, writhing on the ground in agony. A severed foot lay nearby, its blood soaking the ground.

"You now only have two choices: a quick and painless death, or a life of torment before death!"

"Tomorrow night, in Luanhe City, Robb will die!" Rams was covered in sweat, but a sinister glint flashed in his eyes. "You're too late, too late, hehehehehe..."

Rams laughed triumphantly; even in the face of death, he still thought about hurting others.

Arya nearly collapsed upon hearing the news.

Namelia let out a soft moan and gently nudged her body with her head, which calmed her down.

She looked at Ramsay and said calmly, "Ramsay Jon Snow, you are accused of murder, rape, torture, and other crimes. In the name of Eddard Stark's daughter of Winterfell, I sentence you to death!"

Ramsay made a final desperate attempt: "You can't kill me! I'm not Jon Snow, I'm Bolton! The rightful heir to House Bolton!"

“My father taught me that the executioner must wield the sword himself.” Arya raised her sewing needle and plunged it into Rams’s neck, ending the demon’s life. “You should thank me for giving you a quick death!”

"Assemble all forces!" Arya ordered Bakdor, "Head to the Twins tonight!"

A thousand cavalrymen galloped along the road, their hooves shaking the earth and startling the night birds by the roadside.

As they drew closer to the Twins, Arya felt an increasing sense of unease.

"Faster, faster!"

The rain seemed to never stop. Arya was already soaked to the bone, with a few strands of hair sticking to her face and water dripping down. She sat on her horse, seemingly oblivious, talking to herself.

"Robb, Mother, wait for me..."

Nymeria ran at the front of the group, glancing back at her with a hint of relief in her eyes. She sensed her master's anxiety, but she believed they would arrive in time.

The following evening, the Green Fork River was turbulent, and the Twin Towers of the Twin Rivers finally appeared on the horizon. The two towering stone towers looked like two sharp swords piercing the rainy night.

Arya vaguely heard a strange melody drifting through the heavy rain.

That was "The Rainy Season of Castamere".

...

The wedding is underway in the main hall of Twin Rivers.

On the musicians' platform at the bottom of the hall, the drums pounded, along with the wailing of flutes, the vibrato of long pipes, the shrill cries of violins, and the roar of horns.

The rain outside continued unabated, but the air inside the city was quite warm.

A roaring fire blazed in the fireplace of the hall, and torches on a row of iron pylons on the wall emitted wisps of black smoke. Because there were many people and few benches, it was inevitable to bump into your neighbor every time you raised your glass.

On the table lay thin leek soup, green pea salad, almond milk stewed river fish, roast duck, a small mountain of chopped turnips, and solidified beef brain and tendons. How could such things be served to the King? Catherine thought to herself.

Robb sat between Aisie Frey and "Beautiful Varda," the two Frey daughters, and ate with impeccable manners.

Edmure's attention was entirely focused on his bride, Roslin, and for her sake, he was willing to completely disregard the hardships of the journey from Riverrun to the Twins.

Roseline's expression, however, seemed unnatural, as if she were forcing a smile. Her eyes were filled with fear, and she gripped Edmure's hand tightly.

“Your Majesty,” said ninety-three-year-old Walder Frey to Robb, “the monks have spoken their piety, the young couple has made their vows, and Brother Edmure has taken my sweetheart away in his fish-cloak, yet they are not yet husband and wife. The sword is sheathed, the wedding night is approaching. Your Majesty, what do you say? Shouldn’t we have some fun in the bridal chamber?”

About twenty of Walder Frey's sons and grandsons banged on the table and shouted, "Get in bed! Get in bed! Let's have some fun in the bridal chamber!"

Robb raised a hand. "If you think it's time, Lord Walder, then let's begin!"

Suddenly, the band on the rooftop changed their tune and started playing another song.

No one sang the lyrics; it was "The Rainy Season of Castamere".

At this moment, a sudden change occurred!
An arrow pierced the king's body, just inside his shoulder. His cries were drowned out by the sounds of flutes, drums, and harps. A second arrow pierced his thigh, and the king fell to the ground.

On the rooftop, the musicians put down their instruments and took out their crossbows.

“Robb!!” Caitlin shouted sharply.

Little Jon Snow quickly overturned a tall table and threw it at the king.

One, two, three, countless crossbow bolts pierced the wooden planks.

Robin Flint was surrounded by a group of Frey family members who pulled out daggers and began to strike him.

Sir Wendell Manderle stood up, took a leg of lamb as a weapon, and shot an arrow into his open mouth, piercing his neck.

Lucas Blackwood was cut down by Sir Hostin Frey, and his crossbow felled Donald Locke, Owen Norry, and six or seven others.

Young Sir Benfred grabbed Daisy Mormont's arm, but she grabbed a jug of wine and smashed it over his head, knocking him unconscious, before running toward the door.

Just as they reached the door, it burst open, and Sir Lyman Frey, fully armed, rushed into the hall first, followed by a dozen or so Frey soldiers.

Sir Lyman disemboweled Daisy, and several other squads of soldiers poured in through the side door, all wearing thick fur cloaks, full armor, and armed with weapons.

They are from the North!

For a moment, Caitlin thought she was about to be saved, until she witnessed the other side chop off Little Jon's head with two axes.

Endless, blood-red color flowed across the hall floor.

The lord of the river crossing sat high on an intricately carved black oak chair, greedily surveying the massacre.

The long table covering Robb shifted, and he struggled to sit up.

An arrow pierced the king's shoulder and thigh. Lord Walder raised his right hand, and the killing temporarily ceased.

“Hey,” Wald chuckled, “The King in the North has risen. Your Majesty, I’m sorry, my men seem to have wounded one of your men. Hey, I apologize on their behalf, and I hope we can be allies again, hey.”

Caitlin grabbed Wade's son's long gray hair, dragged him out from under the table, held a dagger to his neck, and screamed:

"Lord Walder! Enough! You've achieved your goal by repaying betrayal with betrayal!"

“Please, Robb is my son, my first son, my only surviving son. Let him go. Let him go, and I swear we will forget…forget what you did. I swear to the old and new gods, we will never seek revenge…”

(End of this chapter)