Chapter 2

Nights like this, when the moon hung above the world, lighting everything in a tinge of white, was always when he felt most alive. Roose Bolton thought to himself as he starred up to the night sky, as he laid on the ground next to the burning ashes of a fire. Roose Bolton glanced through the smoke that littered the air next to him, as he watched his sired bastard starring up to the same night sky. "You may be a bastard, but that doesn't mean I don't have expectations of you," Roose stated out loud for his bastard to hear. "We're out here not just to hunt in celebration of your thirteenth nameday. But also so I can turn you from a boy into a man." Roose explained, giving the boy an answer that had been plaguing him all day. "House Bolton has a long history full of rebellion, but who would ever want to bend the knee to someone else." Roose Bolton explained to his bastard son. Ramsay Snow listened as his lord, not father, told him about the history of House Bolton. "We say, 'our blades are sharp,' as a reminder to every House that thinks they are above us, that think they own us. Boltons aren't afraid of rebellion, because nothing is worse than submission." Roose Bolton hammered his point into his bastard's brain. "We flay men, not only because flay men have no secrets, but as a reminder to ourselves of what happens when you lose." Bolton carefully explained, "it's always easiest to imagine the best case scenario when you win and always hard to imagine the worst case scenario when you lose. We aren't most people, we are Boltons. We are careful, plan for the best but expect the worse." Roose continued, as a thundering boom rang through the night sky.

They both saw it at the same time, the thing that brought the noise of thunder to a quiet sky, a star was falling from the heavens. They scrambled out of their blankets and onto their feet, as they never lost vision of the star tearing through the night, and plummeting to the ground. The earth quaked and rumbled, as the thick trees of the forest swayed as the star collided with the planet. "It's this way, and close." Roose Bolton said to his bastard as he began running towards the star with his bastard on his heels. As they ran, each had dreams running through their mind, one with finding an ore from the fallen star to make the next greatsword like 'Dawn, the sword of morning,' so that he could elevate his house from under the Starks boot. The other dreamed of finding something of enough worth, so that he could trade in his last name of Snow, for the last name of Bolton. Both ran towards the star as best case scenarios played through their minds.

Half of an hour was all it took for the destiny of a man and a boy to irreversibly change . The father and son duo stood above the crater and starred at the metal construct that was three trees tall, two trees wide, and was half buried in the ground. "Is this what a star looks like Lord Bolton?" Ramsay Snow asked, as Lord Bolton quietly nodded, and slowly began walking down the crater to get a better look at his new prize. Steam rolled off the giant object as they neared it, the heat from the metal could be felt twenty steps away, and they didn't dare to be any closer to it then that. Waiting for it to cool, they both couldn't take their eyes off the object that promised to grant all their wishes. A hissing sound slithered through the quiet air around them as part of the star near the ground lit up and slowly began to move. White light flooded out of the entrance of the star, momentarily blinding the stunned and soon to be panicked duo. A figure stood in the middle of the blinding light, as Roose Bolton and Ramsay Snow squinted their eyes trying to see just who it was. They couldn't make out any details of the man, but they did see him raise his hand towards them, and Ramsay Snow was lifted on the ground and flung towards the man bathed in light.

Roose Bolton was frozen, not just out of fear, but out of incomprehension. He heard Ramsay scream, and watched as the man caught Ramasy's throat with his outstretched hand, as a blood red sword made of fire, pierced through his bastards chest. It wasn't until he could hear the thud of Ramsay's body hitting the ground that he began to move. Roose Bolton turned around and started to climb with hands and feet out of the crater. He made it half way up until he was forcibly ripped from the crater wall and flung into the star.

Roose Bolton believed that he would never beg for his life, no matter what condition he was in, he would die with honor and pride. As he floated behind a man in black robes and white armor, in what he now knew was not a star, he began begging. His voice was unheard or ignored, as he continued being dragged in the air behind what he could only assume was a God. They entered a room where the walls were stained in black ink markings, with two metal tables arranged in the middle of the room, as Roose Bolton was soon floating and lowered over one of the tables. It was as he was being strapped down to the table and no matter how hard he struggled, cried, and begged that he first saw the gods face. The face was pale, while sweat dripped down his forehead as he seemed to be in deep concentration. Roose continued his observation as he saw a hole in the white chest plate, with old blood stains streaking towards the ground, and then the body and face were gone. Roose could only see the ceiling of the room, with the black ink markings mocking him and his inconsequential life.

A few minutes after he was strapped onto the table, Roose Bolton began to feel a pressure settle into the middle of his mind. Like another mind was squeezing itself into his own brain. His thoughts, worries, hopes, and dreams seemed to be harder to recall or feel. He began to feel like an empty tusk as even his own subconsciouses was being rewritten, he simply forgot how to breathe or why it was important to do so. His eyelids began to close as the rooms shrank into darkness, and the grasp of life slowly released, letting him float away, far from the land of the living. Roose Boltons body stilled, for minutes nothing happened, and then his mouth opened gasping for breath. His eyes shot open, staring at the black ink markings on the ceiling that was always there when he transfered bodies. The bindings that held down Roose Bolton undid themselves as if an invisible hand was present. The blindings dropped to the floor but still his body didn't move, he waited as he know what was to come. Memories from his past and current lives filled his brain, excruciating pain ran down the nerves in his body, as his brain was overloaded many times over.