Viserys's solution was remarkably straightforward. He directly proposed to Lord Bolton, suggesting that Dominic be introduced to serve as a squire to the Crown Prince in King's Landing.
"I believe he and my brother would get along well. They share similar interests, and if he aspires to be a champion in the tourney, is there a better place to train than King's Landing? Arthur Dayne, Jaime Lannister, Barristan, and my brother – they would all be the best teachers and trustworthy friends."
Lord Bolton was pleasantly surprised. Without much hesitation, he agreed to this opportune offer. Though The North was vast, the nobles there were often busy harvesting wheat or sheltering from blizzards, and they rarely held tourneys. Bolton knew that his family's glory and influence had faded since the Red King pledged allegiance to the Starks. The Boltons were a step below the top tier of the Seven Kingdoms' nobility, and the Dreadfort's reputation was always tinged with the eerie and terrifying. What could be better than sending his heir to King's Landing, to serve under the future king, and gain his favor?
That very day, he told his son, "Dominic, Prince Viserys will write a letter of introduction. Take it south to King's Landing and become the Crown Prince's attendant." The Lord certainly had confidence in his eldest son's abilities.
"Yes, Father." However, a look of melancholy appeared on Dominic's face. He knelt on one knee, requesting his father, "You shouldn't be left alone in the castle. I want a brother to serve at your side."
The Lord knew what his son desired; he wanted to bring his bastard, Ramsay Snow, back to the castle. Lord Bolton frowned, he clearly distinguished between the legitimate heir and the bastard, they must be treated differently. To give the bastard certain rights as Dominic wanted? Ha, the Targaryens knew best what such actions would lead to.
And that bastard... The Lord recalled ten years ago, when he was hunting in the forests around his lands. Passing a mill by the river, the reindeer blood he had drunk beforehand made him want to... Well, the miller's wife was attractive enough. Lord Bolton didn't really remember her hair color or face anymore, but at that moment, he decided to sleep with her. The miller tried to stop him, and so he had to sleep with her, calmly finding a good reason for himself: the right of the first night.
...The miller's marriage hadn't received his approval and recognition; he had deceived him, so he hanged him from a tree, and beneath his swinging corpse, he exercised this right on his wife.
Lord Bolton didn't even want to acknowledge that Ramsay should bear the bastard name Snow. Aside from a pair of pale gray eyes that proved the Bolton seed, everything about his appearance was cursedly ugly. Five years ago, that woman had come to the gates of the Dreadfort, claiming that she had been beaten and driven out by her husband's brother for giving birth to Ramsay, who had gray eyes, and was unable to raise him. She begged for support.
The Lord made an agreement with her. He would help her reclaim her mill, cut out her husband's brother's tongue, and raise the boy, providing pigs, chickens, money, and a servant each year, without telling the child who his father was. And the result? The woman went back on her word. Everyone in the vicinity of the mill, the servants in the Dreadfort, all knew that Ramsay Snow was his son. The rumors even reached Dominic's ears.
"I refuse," the Lord said softly, gently persuading his handsome heir with gray eyes, "A bastard is a bastard and shouldn't be entitled to the life of a castle. You will go to King's Landing to study and serve the Crown Prince. Only by building up achievements will I be comforted. Let's end this discussion, and prepare to pack your bags."
Dominic, rejected by his father, was still unwilling to give up. He was a squire in the service of the Lord of the Vale and was fond of the close-knit family atmosphere in Lord Redfort's household. He genuinely wanted a sibling. Therefore, disregarding his father's advice, he decided to privately visit his half-brother before heading south to King's Landing.
A knight's character compelled Dominic to first thank the young prince who had introduced him. He found Viserys in the Torture Chamber: the young prince was curiously examining the rack and flaying tools from hundreds of years ago. Dominic felt a little ashamed; he thought, that kind of cruelty was in the past.
"The Boltons should have executioners skilled in surgical procedures and the structure of the human body," the young prince said, far removed from the gruesome topic, "Removing the skin without killing is a technique. Of course, they wouldn't live long because of infection, with their muscle tissue completely exposed to the air...I'm curious if anyone back then ever thought of dissecting the bodies in the prison. It would allow you to directly see the location of important organs, laying the foundation for medicine."
Dominic didn't quite understand what the young prince was saying, but he certainly wasn't afraid. He sincerely expressed his gratitude to him and explained that he couldn't leave immediately; he had a brother left outside, and he wanted to ensure he received basic care first.
...My God. What a kind heart. Viserys thought to himself. But being so fond of his brother...he's really like my brother Rhaegar. I'll help him. His brother is the embodiment of evil...The young prince pretended to be curious, saying, If that's the case, can I come along to take a look?
The next day, Dominic rode out with the Crown Prince, along with the idle Benjen and a few attendants, to the Bolton family's forest lands. They followed a stream, arriving at a tributary of the White Knife River. There, a two-story building stood beside the river. The rushing water cascaded over a stone dam, turning a water wheel built inside – a water mill.
Anyone who wanted to grind wheat into flour had to pay to do it here. This was primitive mechanization… Viserys suddenly thought of the blacksmith shops he'd seen in King's Landing. They used hammers to pound iron ore and charcoal for smelting, resulting in a product that, in his opinion, was very crude. However, if he could get his hands on Valyrian Steel smelting techniques, regardless of whether dragonflame was needed, a bellows would definitely be necessary, wouldn't it? Water power could drive the hammer and bellows, and the smelting temperature would undoubtedly increase! With plenty of pig iron, then molds…
Once successful, the lords of the Seven Kingdoms would be in his grasp. He could command the realm, and none would dare disobey. I need to find a scientist skilled in invention and creation to lead the research and development. As for who that person should be, it's obviously Qyburn, the creator of the Frankenstein Mountain! Where is he now? Is he studying at the Citadel, or has he been kicked out? I have to go to Oldtown as soon as possible and find him, recruit him—I'll write to my brother as soon as I get back, and have him help.
He was so lost in thought, envisioning grand schemes, that he didn't pay much attention to the mill's mistress, a round, chubby child, and a servant appearing before them on horseback... An indescribable, pungent stench suddenly hit him! The Crown Prince nearly vomited, as if a thousand rotten eggs had been smashed in his face!
Benjen was the same, his face contorted and swaying. Only Dominic seemed unaffected. Did he not have a sense of smell?
Viserys watched as the boy dismounted, unreservedly approaching the source of the stench: the large man tightly embracing the child. That was Stinky, the first generation of Stinky, a servant given to him by Lord Bolton to purify the air in the castle's pigsty.
It was said he was afflicted with an unknown skin disease. Viserys's mind was filled with stench alarms. When he came to his senses, he was already holding another small vial of Penicillin in his hand. Reason and instinct were in a fierce battle: Reason said, I don't have much Penicillin left, why give it to this person? Instinct, however, was screaming, Eliminate the stench, eliminate the stench!!
Dominic was talking to the three people from the mill. He looked at Stinky with a look of sympathy. He remembered that when he was at home, this person washed three times a day, and in spring and summer, he tried to pick fresh flowers and hide them in his hat and clothes. He also stole his mother's perfume to bathe, for which he was whipped.
His father had sent him to his younger brother as a servant... Dominic didn't feel like he was being looked after at all. He looked at his brother, who was inseparable from Stinky, and felt even more ashamed.
The miller's wife knelt before Dominic, chattering incessantly about her troubles. But Viserys, swaying precariously, judged that she wasn't as miserable as she claimed. Look, she had a gold ring on her finger, and she was well-dressed. She had indeed received enough money to live on because she had given birth to Ramsay.
Viserys held his breath and shoved the small glass bottle into Dominic's hands, barely managing to say, "Royal medicine," to cure... He pointed at Stinky, his legs already giving way. He turned and ran toward the upstream side of the river.
Benjen followed him closely, even more disheveled than he was, and vomited by the riverbank.
Viserys regulated his breathing and turned to look at the miraculous Dominic. He was examining the small bottle and handed it to Stinky, telling him that it was royal medicine and might cure his illness.
Upon hearing this, Stinky quickly twisted off the cap and, with a tilt of his head, swallowed the entire bottle of Penicillin powder! He greedily stuck out his tongue, licking it vigorously to not miss even a single grain. His saliva seemed to carry a strong stench, making Viserys shudder. He completely abandoned the idea of taking the bottle back.
Then he stripped off his clothes and plopped into the frigid river water, washing frantically.
"Stinky!" The boy who had been pulling at him shouted from the riverbank, and Viserys finally had time to take a closer look... which was like having a bucket of cold water thrown over him.
Ramsay Snow was nothing like the Littlefinger in the TV series. This boy, who was about the same age as Viserys, was round and fat, with a bulbous nose and sausage-thick lips that constantly puffed out. His hair was like dirty, black straw, and his skin was covered in what looked like pimples… He was so ugly it made you want to gouge your eyes out.
This ugly kid, brought back to the castle and told his father to acknowledge him as his bastard son?! Was Dominic implying that all the children born out of wedlock were cursed? Only the gods would curse anyone with something like this!
Dominic, as if he had no sense of smell or aesthetic judgment, raised his hand and patted Ramsay's head. He told the mother and son that he would do his best to get their father to accept Ramsay back at the castle.
"Is this the power I deserve?" the ugly boy asked, looking up.
Dominic smiled faintly and nodded. "My brother, power and responsibility go hand in hand. To gain power, you must fulfill your obligations. I am about to go to King's Landing, to serve our father. You must take on this responsibility."
Ramsay continued to grumble, while his mother's face lit up with joy. She grabbed her son's arm. "You must obey what your father says! Listen to your brother! Swear it!!"
Ramsay smacked his thick lips, his pale grey eyes first glancing at Dominic, then at Stinky, who was still scrubbing himself in the water. He pointed. "I want him to continue to be my personal servant. They always say nobles have personal servants."
"That's not a problem. When you return to the castle, our father will definitely provide you with more attendants, brother."
"I look forward to being family, brother." Nine-year-old Ramsay mimicked Dominic's tone, trying to flatter him. But Viserys, who genuinely hoped for and loved his brother, could see right through the ugly boy's icy heart, just like his eyes. His personality was already formed in childhood—besides the stinky servants, he'd never had any playmates. The only mother he knew probably spent all her time scheming how to get this bastard more benefits.
Thinking about Littlefinger's personality and what he was capable of, Viserys still planned to bite the bullet and persuade Lord Bolton. He would ask Bolton to take Ramsay back to the Dreadfort, just to raise him, after Dominic left for King's Landing. However, I will make it clear to him that, under his mother's influence, this Snow might already realize that he could inherit the Dreadfort once Dominic was gone.
The Lord would keep a close eye on him, using his excellent legitimate son to compare and attack him. Under pressure, Littlefinger would continue to be twisted, developing a psychological illness that made him strive to become a Bolton. Just like the saying goes, sometimes the 'traitor' is more ruthless and vicious than the true 'enemy'. Would Ramsay, obsessed with becoming legitimate, do things that even the Bolton ancestors would be ashamed of? In any case, this would make him a powerful pawn for me to disrupt The North.