Chapter 92 - The Ruins of the Dreadfort (V)
"Watch... watch as your hope is slowly reduced to ashes before your eyes." Aenar Targaryen whispering to Ramsay Snow.
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Seeing Roose return to the office with a terrified expression, Aenar smiled and drew Lady Lya from her scabbard. The sword came out with a slashing sound, resounding off the walls of the office. The milky-colored blade seemed to glow, even without the sun's rays falling on it.
Approaching Roose, despite the man's terrified look, Aenar spoke with a cold tone:
"Go to hell safely, Lord Bolton."
Without any hesitation, the sword pierced Roose's heart. To add to his suffering, Aenar slowly plunged the blade into his chest, in no hurry to kill the Lord of the Dreadfort. He enjoyed seeing the fear and terror in the man's eyes.
The same look that Roose's victims gave him during the skinning process, the same look of fear and terror that the women this man raped showed during the brutal act. For this reason, Aenar felt no pity for such human scum, it even increased their suffering.
Aenar then gently helped the Lord of the Dreadfort to his seat. Blood dripped from Roose's mouth, while the light from his eyes gradually faded, as did the last breath from his lungs. Even in the final moments of his life, he couldn't understand how he had offended someone so powerful.
Looking at the lifeless body of the great Lord of the Dreadfort, with a wound in his chest and blood dripping from his mouth, Aenar felt nothing but indifference. There was no special feeling in killing the descendant of the Red Kings of the North.
"Let's go to the second stage of the theater," Aenar muttered as he pulled Lady Lya from the chest of Roose's dead body and sheathed his sword again.
Leaving Roose's office, Aenar walked calmly through the corridors of the Dreadfort as if he were the master of the castle. If anyone saw him, they would think he was the owner, for he walked with confidence and firm steps.