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darkdevasofdestruction · 1 year

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Moon’s Queen ~ Ramsay Bolton x Tyrell!Reader ***

This is lowkey N.S.F.W., but not only.

Basically, the reader goes up North for the first time, takes a liking to a certain Bastard and he shows her the beauty of the Snow Land, only for Myranda to butt her nose and try to kill poor reader... Who only gets the most royal treatment from the bastard~

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“Is there really any place better than the ethereal gardens of our capital?” Y/N asked, twirling barefoot on the green grass, as she bathed in the warm caress giveth by the Sun. “I agree, My Lady. The beauty of the Reach is known all over Westeros, and even far beyond the borders.” Y/N’s maid smiled, looking at the joyful maiden. “Leana, come over, come over - Have you heard that rumours? They say some lords from the North are going to arrive soon. I wonder the purpose for their long journey. Surely, if it were not important, a Lord would not be making such a tedious trip.” Y/N turned abruptly towards her maid and grabbed her hands gingerly, yet her smirk was mischievous, like that of a playful vixen. “My Lady, please, for the love that you bore me and your Lady mother, behave as a lady should. Such wicked curiosity is unbecoming of someone of your status. Not to mention, you are not even betrothed yet, grace of your Lord Father’s love for you and your... Adventurous side, let us name it that way, as to avoid words unspeakable for a lady --” though the maid continued reproaching her, Y/N already was far away, as she had seen the retinue making their way towards the castle.

Keeping her distance from the main road, Y/N ran along, inspecting the banners - Of course, as the eldest daughter of the Tyrell Lord, she was well educated. She just didn’t bother acting the part. Thus, she easily spotted the main banners of the Stark and Bolton family, along with some of their vassals and other lesser... Far less important lords that were hardly worth caring for.

She at least could realise why her father wanted to keep this as a surprise - He always loved surprising her with the newest things out there, even if that meant some new lordlings visiting with sons and daughters her age so that she would make new friends, should they be willing to.

Unable to contain her excitement any further, the young lady of barely eight and ten years of age bursted through the front doors of the Castle and ran all the way to the throne room, where she saw her father greeting Lord Stark and Lord Bolton, while their children and the lesser lords were one step, or even two, behind. Y/N grinned widely as she skipped to her lord father’s side, hugging his side and wearing the most charming and innocent expression a daughter could make to melt her father’s old heart, as she kissed his cheek.

“Sweet father, what a pleasant surprise! To think that we would be guesting visitors from so far away! How very exciting!” then, she turned to the two older men and did a pretty curtesy, despite not wearing any shoes and wearing a light, simple dress. “You must be Lord Stark and Lord Bolton - It is a pleasure meeting you and your envoy.” Eddard Stark was the first to step forward and kiss her hand, with the other one following right behind. Her father guffawed mirthfully and put his hand on her back, while with the other, he pointed to the children of those lords. “Y/N, darling, why don’t you entertain the young guests? They must be tired after such a tiresome journey. Show them to their room and then guide them down for the feast, will you?” with a pat on her head, the girl nodded with a bright smile and skipped towards the other ones, some her age, while some, much younger than her. “If you would be so kind as to follow me - Ah, of course, where are my manners, do excuse me. My name is Y/N Tyrell and I am the eldest daughter of my Lord Father, Mace Tyrell, and my Lady Mother, Alerie Hightower. I have four other siblings - Willas, who is the oldest one, Garlant, my dear twin brother, Loras, who is by far, the prettiest young man the Reach has ever seen, and my sweet sister Margaery, who rivals any flower in Westeros.” Y/N continued to speak, not daring yet to get a better look at the young ones whom she was guiding - She wanted to take each of them through a detailed lens, once the feast began, so she could see what kind of people they truly are, despite their frail age.

Despite her reticence, she could already see their personalities shine, more or less individually - While Robb was more sober and chivalrous, Jon, the bastard of Lord Stark, was rather timid and dared not speak. Sansa was the definition of the perfect lady, whilst young Arya was an adventurous, playful soul, just like her.

And then, there was Ramsay Snow, Roose Bolton’s bastard and only child, and much possibly, the one that will become his heir and take over the Dreadfort... This one was... Odd, to say the least. Handsome, charming, well-natured, rather funny and an outright gentleman - He even seemed interested in her passions and anything that she has to say, unlike the other two boys.

Was Roose Bolton trying to have his child court her, for a better claim to get his bastard legitimized? How intriguing.

By the time evening came through, Y/N was already bathed, oiled in the most fragrant, sweet perfumes and garbed in the most beautiful light blue and gold dress, making her shine even more beautifully than the colourful flowers that were braided into her long, shiny hair that cascaded down her back in velvety waves as she entered the feast room and sat between Sansa and Arya (asked by their Lord Father, in hopes that they would stop their on-going feud), with the three visitor boys sitting opposite of them. Margaery and Loras were chatting somewhere closer to their mother, while Willas, Garlan and his wife were having a pleasant conversation at the other end of the table.

"I would love to ask you how do you find Highgarden so far, yet that would be just silly of me. You are far too tired for a walk through the gardens, though I promise you that, on the morrow, I shall be guiding you through all of the beautiful places that the proximity has to offer. There is truly nothing better in life than to feast your eyes on the beauty and art that life has to offer.” the girl smiled serenely, as if she was completely unaffected by anything tainted in this world. Ramsay Snow, with those gargoyle blue eyes, was staring at her with wonder and intrigue - There was also something else, rather foreign for him... A kind of hunger that he had never experienced, no matter how many pretty girls passed through his hands and bed.

Was it his intuition? That there was something far more sinister about this young girl that hid behind wet fawn eyes? Something that was hidden away from anyone to see? Surely, there was no human capable of being this... Sickeningly soft and sweet and whatever other feminine words that are hammered down into a woman’s brain from birth.

No - Perhaps, not EVERY woman. Myranda cursed like a sailor and her speech was dirty and vulgar, unlike her pretty face and fragile body. She could easily break, just like all of them, no matter the vocabulary they used. Pathetic.

Still, he was outright fascinated, and he wanted dearly to see whether this Tyrell girl was made, inside and out, of flowers and perfume - If honeyed wine was surging through her veins, because if so, he’d get drunk on her blood, and feast on her supple, tender body like a madman.

“Lady Y/N, did you make your dress yourself?” Sansa asked with a shy smile, admiring the fine craftsmanship - The fashion style and hair styles were so different down south, compared to those in the north. “Not entirely, though, I suppose I could, if I put my mind to. I love embroidery, but I do not much fancy tailoring as a whole. Whenever I want to pass some time, I go in the garden and embroider whatever designs I am inspired to on a new dress that the seamstresses make for me.” the girl answered truthfully, allowing the red haired beauty to trace the golden, intricate designs with her soft fingertips. “See? She said she hates tailoring! She’s on my side!” Arya blurted in a bratty voice, making her two brothers lean on each other, to hide their chuckling. “No! She said she loved embroidery, she’s nothing like you, you dirty sewer rat!” Sansa gritted her teeth at her younger sister, latching her arms onto the Tyrell girl’s arm. “Oh my, oh my, what do we have here, a little sister feud. I see that sweet Sansa is rather fond of feminine arts... But you, Arya, are not. Could it be that you prefer a... Different kind of ‘needlework’? Could it be that, should you have been born a male, you could have easily defeated your two sniggering brothers over there?” Y/N raised her hand to her mouth, humming in amusement at their family interactions. “What?! You mean you like sparring too? And archery? And horse-riding? And fencing? And --” Arya’s eyes became wide like saucers from absolute amazement. “No way Lady Y/N enjoys something so brutish and barbaric as that! Look at her, she’s such a fine and delicate lady - There’s no scar or bruise on her skin, and her hands aren’t even pricked by needles!” Sansa tried to defend her own vision of the Tyrell girl, who only shook her head. “It is a wide belief that people should be owners of a variety of skills, of the widest ranges. Be it that I am arranging flowers with my sweet sister, or sparring with young Loras, if I am discussing history, art and philosophy with my eldest brother, or winning riding contests against my darling twin, it matters little. Those skills need not be necessarily mastered to the maximum degree possible, but they should at least be known, for the most part.” she explained as gracefully as she could, hoping that both sisters would be pacified... Somehow.

However, they only began arguing more, making Y/N lean backwards to allow them to face each other better. With a low chuckle, she slipped her way out of there, sharing an amused look with the three boys opposite of her, before she stole a plate filled with small cakes, tarts and pastries and making her way outside, so she could take a stroll through the garden, the dimly lit lamps and the silvery light of Mother Moon being the only source of light.

The sound of rapid footsteps on the cobbled street, however, made the corners of her mouth turn upward in amusement as she continued to walk, seemingly unassuming, until the owner of those steps jumped right in front of her - Yet she did not flinch - Instead, she took a strawberry tart and popped it into his mouth.

“Do you have strawberries up North, Lord Ramsay?” the man’s eyes were wide, yet nowhere near matching Arya’s previous shock. With a huff, he gulped down the bite-sized tart and nodded his head in approval. “I have to admit, My Lady, that I have never tasted anything as delicious as this tart. I may have not realised entirely the benefits of living in the most prosperous land in Westeros. There are many a fruit and vegetables that are foreign to me, who has not left the North until now.” he spoke, side-stepping so he could walk next to her. “I can only assume Highgarden is a most safe land, otherwise, a gorgeous lady such as yourself would be afraid of walking the dark gardens, unattended by anyone.” he assumed, stealing another cake, this one, a pomegranate one. “Yes, you are correct, My Lord. There have been no assaults in Highgarden, since I have been born. I often stroll through the gardens at night - I have found it a rather relaxing and enjoyable hobby of mine - And through none of these promenades of mine, have I ever needed to make use of my hidden weapon, thankfully for whatever fool might be out there.” she explained nonchalantly, entering a large garden filled with only white flowers that almost seemed to glow in the moonlight. The girl sat down on the grass and looked up at the moon, letting the plate on the ground, and she smiled. “Do you know what flower this is, Lord Ramsay?” she asked, a serene and peaceful expression on her face, as the man sat down next to her. “No, I dare say, I do not. We do not have such majestic flowers in my lands.” he answered, examining and analysing her face as if she was some kind of Moon Nayad. “They are called the ‘Moon’s Queen’, for they only open their petals during the night, if they receive this silvery light.” her smile felt as serene as the moon - Was she some kind of Moon Goddess that thrived best in the night light? Or, perhaps, some kind of witch, for she completely enchanted him. Getting up from the ground, she waltzed to one of the bigger flowers, and taking a dagger hidden within her hair’s braids, she cut it short and returned to the man. “The petals are even softer than a rose’s - And unlike one, they have a sweet perfume smell. But they are shy, and not many people know of them, hence why this flower is always... Forgotten. It can only be white, unlike the rose, which can grace every colour there is, hence why, it is the most loved and praised flower, especially here - Our symbol is a golden rose, after all.” the girl was kneeling on the ground in front of him, the flower nestling beautifully on her two joined palms - In the light, it looked as if it was glowing. “You said your sister was named ‘The Rose of Highgarden’, as she is the most beautiful woman in the Reach. I beg to disagree. Roses are common, and boring - One can find them anywhere. They are even freely given at jousting tourneys.” Ramsay spoke, carefully taking the flower, and fixing it into her hair. “But I think true beauty is hidden away from the common eye. The most endearing things are the mysteries you unveil yourself.” though her eyes were cast down, and a soft blush was painted on her cheeks, the bastard could see the enigmatic smile that was painted on those sweet lips of hers - He was convinced they were even softer, and more velvety than even the petals of this flower - And oh, how he wanted to test that theory for himself. “Then, how would you name me, Lord Ramsay~?” her eyes slowly met his, and for a moment there, he had forgotten how to breathe. Those sparkling, beautiful eyes of hers were so full of life, so mischievous - He was more and more curious how would she react to seeing a man flayed before her. “The Queen of the Moon.” the man gingerly held her chin, leaning it down, enough to plant a kiss on her forehead.

The next day, after a hearty breakfast, they were to have a ride through the forest, along with her brothers. Willas preferred to stay on the side and have good chats with his father and the other two Lords, while Garlan was already out with his Lady wife. That left Margaery to entertain Sansa, who didn’t want to get her dress dirty in the woods, even though she would have gladly ridden with Loras. At least, with Margaery, who was her age, she could chat for hours and walk through the gardens.

Arya, however, jumped up and down in excitement and insisted she rides with Y/N, who could only chuckle and agree, despite Robb and Jon shaking their head at the young girl’s stubbornness.

The young ones had a lot of fun, riding and hunting game, then at night, the royal kitchen would make a feast from their triumphant victory. Unfortunately for everyone, the retinue had to return back home after a week, and though it felt like barely a few moments had passed, it was time for them to leave...

But not without the Stark Lord inviting the Highgarden Lord and his children over in the North - The reasons mattered little - Y/N was more than excited to see the beauty of the North, as Ramsay had described it, especially after he, himself, had invited the girl while in private. Since the day that the envoy left, Y/N was all over her father, telling him to start preparing for the long journey up the King’s Road, all the way to Winterfell.

Moments passed like hours, hours like days and days like weeks, and than months, but finally, after far too many months of waiting, Mace Tyrell allowed his eldest daughter to go first up North, for a brief journey towards the Dreadfort - Though the man wasn’t too happy that his sweet Y/N has become smitten with a bastard, he knew very well that Lord Bolton was the second most powerful man in the North, and was fighting hard to get his son ligitimised. He hated the idea of settling for second best, but at the same time, his darling had never been status-ambitious like her grandmother or her youngest sister, preferring to enjoy life to the fullest - And, of course, how could he deny his darling Y/N the freedom of falling in love, something all nobles had been prived of for so many centuries on end? Though she has never proven to be a romantic, Mace and Alerie both hoped that, just like her twin brother, Y/N would meet a man that will make her feel like a maiden from the bards’ love stories, like Florian and Jonquil.

Y/N was warmly welcomed in the Dreadfort by none other than the Snow boy himself, who wore a large, excited smile on his face, and he gallantly invited the lady inside the humble abode, as he called it - How could he compare his small fort to the gracious palace of the Highgarden, after all? Not wealth, nor grandeur could come anywhere close to what he had witnessed in the beautiful South.

However much Ramsay wished to get her inside, out of the harsh cold that was reddening her cheeks even more so than the red roses that grew wild, as soon as she heard the squealing of dogs, she found herself rushing towards the kennels. There, Ramsay noticed, she completely ignored Myranda’s presence and ran past her, to the kennel of one bitch that had just gave birth less than a month ago. “My~... Aren’t you so beautiful?” the bastard watched the fascination emanating from the girl - Did she truly love dogs so much, he wondered? Was she maybe that much of an innocent girl, and he misjudged her? “Do you have a death wish, or are you just plain dumb?!” Myranda angrily shrieked at the beautiful lady, shocked at how boldly she knelt by the bitch’s side. “You don’t just go next to a bitch that just gave birth! It will think you’re trying to harm her pups and she will attack you. It’s common knowledge!” however much Ramsay wanted to slap Myranda for speaking with such insolence with his sweet flower, he couldn’t help but notice Y/N taking her furs off and creating a blanket for the dog and her puppies. “There, there, you must be cold, aren’t you, darling? All better now, isn’t it? Sweet lady, you must eat well and keep warm if you and your babies want to keep strong.” he watched as the dog sniffed Y/N’s palm, only to lean its head onto it... Acting like a spoiled pup, melting in the caring, loving touch of the nurturing lady. “Wh-What the hell are you doing -- Are you insane?! You can’t -- You can’t just -- That’s our most aggressive bitch, you can’t just tame her like that, she’ll become useless!” the kennel master’s daughter roughly grabbed at Lady Tyrell’s dress, pulling her away from the dogs - Though much surprising was that the bitch rose and started growling menacingly at her. Myranda could only stare at the bitch in shock and slight fear - None of the dogs ever dared growl at her, let alone snarl and bare their fangs at her. She was the dog whisperer! The one tasked with taking care of her beloved Lord Ramsay’s precious bitches! How dare that... That whore interfere! How dare she mess everything?! “Myranda.” the woman froze, feeling complete dread take over her senses. “It is clear that Lady Tyrell here is far more competent with dogs than you, the kennel master’s own daughter, are.” a bead of sweat ran down her forehead from the sheer pressure of his stern, ice-cold voice. “If even the dogs are going against you for your silly mistake, then I believe you should leave for the day. I and Lady Y/N will be taking care of them for now.” “B-But R-Ramsay, I-- I--... Sh-She---” the skinny woman’s otherwise dominant and harsh eyes became wide with fear as her master stepped closer to her, those gargoyle-like eyes staring deep into her soul, and for a second there, she could see herself being flayed alive. “Leave.” he ordered. “I will think of a proper punishment later.” with a flick of his gloved hand, Myranda whimpered and ran out of the kennels. Ramsay took a deep breath before kneeling by Y/N’s side. “Forgive her, My Lady, she overreacted. She wasn’t aware of who you are, otherwise she wouldn’t have spoken out of line.” Y/N smiled softly at him, before pulling him towards the dog. “It is quite alright, I don’t mind. In fact, it was I who was in the wrong. Lady Myranda tried to warn me, though my recklessness could have cost me my hand, or perhaps worse.” Ramsay looked into those glimmering eyes, and without much thinking, he grasped her chin and forced her to look at him - It earned a growl from the bitch, though Y/N pat her head enough to calm her down. “Incompetent slaves ought to be reprimanded and put in their place, My Sweet Lady, otherwise they grow bold and misbehave.” his tone changed to a more whispery one, which only seemed to grow her own smile. “It is not up to me to reprimand a servant that is not of mine own, especially as she simply tried to save me from a sure mauling.” he could see the corner of her mouth twitch upwards, just a little bit. “After all... Slaves and bastards aren’t too different in the eyes of the people, are they?” Ramsay’s eyes seemed to flash, grabbing her face closer to his, only for the dog to outright bark at him. “My Beautiful Lady resembles the flower with her own name - Beautiful, yet poisonous and deadly. Perhaps I ought to reconsider the nickname I address you as.” “Sweet Ramsay, I think Lady Dog is trying to tell you that you should be more gentle with me.” she softly put her hand over his, releasing the grasp on her face. “After all, I’m just a little lady, frail as a flower, and afraid of getting hurt.” “Do you even believe your own lies, My Lady?” Y/N smiled at him, tilting her head to the side, completely innocent - Though Ramsay knew that sparkle in her eyes very well - It was a challenge - She was provoking him. “You once called me the Queen of the Moon, Sweet Ramsay - It wouldn’t bode well for you to treat me any less than that.” the man scoffed, an amused smirk on his face as he took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders, bringing her closer to his body. “Flowers freeze in this cold, My Lady. You should come inside and warm yourself up. You must be tired after such a long journey, and Myranda’s less than optimal behaviour wasn’t the greeting that a princess like you deserves.” the man helped her up, and with a hand placed on the middle of her back, he guided her inside the unexpectedly warm fort, into a cozy room, clean and already warm. “I will have the servants bring you dinner here. The maids will know better than I, the kind of hospitality that a lady needs.” he bowed his head at her slightly, watching as she went for the window, and she looked outside, a serene look on her face. “Does it mean that you’re already leaving me alone? Well - I suppose I won’t mind much. The view here is spectacular - And I have some puppies to care for, and books plenty to read. I doubt I’ll get bored, even without your great company.” she hummed, not even sparing him a single glance. “Your room is across mine own.” she needn’t look at him to feel the forming smirk on his face. “For any reason you wish to see me, I will be at your disposal, whatever hour of the day or night, my sweet lady.” “That is a proposal that I will be taking to heart. Thank you for such lovely and warm hospitality, my sweet Ramsay, I appreciate your kindness and care for me.” she turned to him, holding her hand over her heart. “It is my first time here, up North, after all.” he was so smitten with that soft, tender voice of hers - But more, he was head over heels with the mystery hidden behind that angelic facade of hers. “By all means, my lady. Although the North isn’t as wealthy and welcoming as the South, we still strive to show its beauty, for there is plenty.” with a charming smile, Ramsay left the room, allowing the girl to be attended to by the maid.

The maid was Myranda, Y/N realised with great amusement, and she was nowhere near as talkative as before, when she’d snapped at her. Y/N smiled sweetly at the dog caretaker, but it wasn’t difficult to realise that the reason for her muteness was the emotion she was failing so miserably to hide. She was so jealous.

Was it her wealth? Her beauty and grace? Her noble status? - Or, perhaps, it was Ramsay’s evident interest in the Tyrell girl that she was so envious of. Either way, it didn’t matter - Y/N was loving the torment storming behind those blue eyes - Those eyes of her were kinda pretty, Y/N thought, yet they somehow became incredibly dull on her. They didn’t fit her. She was dull.

With the expected curtesy, Myranda brought the tray of food and beverages inside the room, placing it carefully on the table next to the fireplace, yet despite how annoyingly chatty she previously was - Now, she remained silent. Good. Her voice was rather grating.

“My Lady.” unfortunately, she had to open mouth of hers - Y/N noticed she had applied some make up, and her lips were deep, blood red. Awful colour on her. “My Lord asked me to draw a bath for you after you’ve eaten.” “Very well, you may do so.” the Tyrell beauty sat at the table and kept herself busy by reading a book whilst eating the tasty dishes. The meat was unexpectedly tender - Y/N was sure this must be some kind of venison done with a secret recipe that they didn’t have in the South. It was perfectly delicious, and the text was rather interesting - If only Myranda’s presence hadn’t been such a hindrance... At least her maids were better company and knew when to give her the much needed quiet, alone time that she so greatly needed - It was such a chore, engaging in social interactions. “You are very beautiful, My Lady. Where are you from, if I may ask?” Myranda spoke, sniffing the powerful, sweet floral perfume. “Highgarden.” one of Y/N’s maids spoke in her stead, not wanting their lady to be interrupted whilst busy. “Lady Y/N Tyrell is the most beautiful maiden in the Reach.” Leana smiled dearly at her lady. “Ah!” Y/N snapped her head towards her friend. “Margy is!” Leana’s smile widened. “My Lady, forgive me for disagreeing with you - Whilst Lady Margaery is, indeed, the Rose of Highgarden, I cannot help but find your beauty above any word from every vocabulary in Westeros, and beyond.” “You flatter me so, my sweet Leana, you needn’t!” Y/N hid her flustered face with the book she was reading. “There were others before you. All of them just as beautiful, or maybe even more than you.” Myranda’s eerily soothing voice spoke, her fingers tracing the water, feeling its temperature. “You are not that special to him... My Lady.” she offered Lady Tyrell a small, venomous smile. “Lord Ramsay gets bored very quickly.” Whilst Leana was ready to speak up and defend her lady, Y/N simply smiled sweetly at Myranda, gesturing for her maid to remain quiet. “Is that so? Thank you, I will keep that in mind, erh--...” Y/N smiled wider, taunting her. “What was your name again? Meera? Maria?” “Myranda, My Lady.” the girl almost snapped. Y/N let out a small ‘ah’ sound, though the kennel master could see that she was acting. “Right. A name as dull as you. It fits you!” she said. “Will you tell me about these ladies that preceded me, then?” Y/N could see the way Myranda was trying so hard not to break her composure, and with each twitch of her face, she was feeling more and more ecstatic. “Let’s see... There was Kyra, the blacksmith’s daughter. She was taller than you, with a lovely figure... But... She talked, and... Talked and talked... And Ramsay grew tired of that.” Myranda spoke, adding more boiled water to the tub. “And then there was Violet... She had gorgeous blonde hair... Well... She got pregnant, and - That was boring.” she chuckled lightly. “Then... Tansy... Such a sweet girl, much like you.” Myranda grinned. “Of course, sweet girls get a bit... Dull... After a while, don’t they?” she stared deep into Y/N’s eyes, hoping to see the fright and alert. There was nothing but twinkling of amusement. “Ramsay let me come with him on that hunt.” “Then, when is it your turn?” Myranda’s smile faltered in surprise. “I wonder if I need to do anything more than batting my pretty lashes at him, to let me come to your hunt. I’m a pretty good shot, you know, he even praised me when we went hunting last month.” she giggled sweetly. “Just because you’re a new hyper-obsession of his, doesn’t mean you’ll last. They all exhausted their use fairly quick. It’s their fault for being boring. Noble women like you, especially, are the most dull of all. No personality, no interests - You just sit in a corner, have a pretty smile and you embroider some handkerchief.” Myranda shot to her feet immediately, not realising her outburst. “If I’m the new obsession, it just means you’re old news. Remember how he scolded you earlier today? He didn’t seem too happy with you. Were you... Jealous, Marla?” the woman spat her name again, correcting her. “Ah, yes, forgive me - It is not easy remembering such a stale name.” “He promised to marry me! Ramsay always kept his promises to me!” she almost looked like a bratty child, with angry tears making her eyes gleam. “And you truly believed that?” Y/N widened her eyes, letting out a fake, dramatic gasp as she got up and called for Leana to unlace her dress. “Oh, sweet girl, how naive must you be - So blind and deaf, so muddle-headed, to think that the man who’s trying to get himself legitimised as the next Lord Bolton would actually spare you another glance once he gets that title and will realise how absolutely tiresome your ugly jealousy is. He won’t have any time for the silly temper tantrums of a dumb, little girl who thinks she is going to marry the man of her dreams.” Y/N hummed in amusement, feeling the water-like material of her dress falling down to the ground, revealing her gorgeous silhouette and harmonious curves in all their glory, only to take in another sharp inhale, once she noticed the gears of Myranda’s brain working, fear and doubt overwhelming her, as well as a sense of perfect inferiority, seeing the Goddess body of the Tyrell woman. “No, don’t tell me...” she said, pitying her. “You thought that... By offering him your flower, he was truly going to commit to you? Oh, darling, you sweet, sweet girl - How foolish can you get? Don’t you know that mundane, predictable thoughts like these are...” Y/N grinned wickedly, making Myranda’s blood freeze in her bloodstream. “Boring.”

Myranda felt her heart stop, and with a kind of uneasiness that she hasn’t felt in a long time, she quickly left the room, allowing Y/N and her maids to giggle and continue gossiping and making fun of the kennel master’s daughter. What a delusional girl.

Y/N stepped into the hot water and allowed the steam to soothe her tired muscles, just allowing her maid to clean her and oil her with the sweetest perfumes that the South can create. Once it got late enough into the night, Y/N, wearing a light sleeping gown that would have been perfect for the Reach, yet not so much for the chilly nights of the North - Draping herself in furs yet remaining barefoot, she swiftly stepped out of the room and with a soft knock, she creaked open the door, calling out his name. “Sweet Ramsay, are you awake?” He must have been asleep, as he hadn’t answered to her whispery voice - It only made Y/N bolder, closing the door behind her and quietly tip-toe to his bed. His pretty face was being illuminated by the moonlight peeking through the window, though Y/N could only stare at the man sleeping without his shirt, and she felt a cold shiver down her spine - Were all Northmen so cold resistant, she wondered.

She crouched by his face and trailed the back of her fingers by his sculpted jaw. He looked so peaceful and innocent sleeping, it was like he was a whole other person. “My Sweet Ramsay, are you having nice dreams?” Unexpectedly, her hand got grabbed, and with outstanding force and another hand on her body, she got pulled into the man’s tight arms. “They are, now that you’re here.” his low, husky voice spoke. “Were you missing me so much that you couldn’t sleep, my sweet flower?” “Yes.” she breathed out, already feeling her body warm under the furs, held flush against his hot body. “So genuine. Very endearing.” Y/N could feel his body shaking softly from one attractive chuckle. “You were cold, weren’t you?” “O, you’ve found me out!” she nuzzled in the crook of his neck. “I didn’t mean to appear as though I’m trying to make use of you... Though I cannot deny that I am already feeling so much better.” “Had that useless wench forgotten to do the fire in your room?” the man grumbled. “That must have been my fault - I think I upset Lady Myranda with my teasing. She walked away with tears in her eyes. I called her name, but... I think I really made her sad. Forgive me, sweet Ramsay.” that sickly sweet voice of hers only made him scoff in mock amusement. “Whatever you said to her, she’ll get over it.” he seemed harsh. “There is no wrong you can do here, especially against some slave girl that can’t even do her job right.” “Please, sweet Ramsay, don’t be so harsh with her - It is not her fault that she is still dreaming like a little girl.” the man hummed questioningly. “She was so happy, speaking about you, I couldn’t help but tease her a little - You know, like friends. Alas, I think I must have gone a bit over board for someone who isn’t as close to me as any of my friends back home.” “What kind of idiocy has she bored you with?” Ramsay was now wide awake, already thinking of a way to punish that stupid slut. “No, No, my darling, love is not something boring, nor is the sweet promise of a happy marriage!” Y/N shifted up, resting on her forearms to get a better look at the man. “She seemed so delighted, thinking about you and your future together. It was so precious, mind you.” Ramsay remained quiet for a few seconds. “You have gone quiet, sweet Ramsay - Have I... Bored you already?” The man took a sharp breath, his hands finding their rightful place, cupping her cheeks. “You could never bore me, My Sweet Flower. I was just wondering the extent of Myranda’s delusions. Stupid girl believes everything anyone tells her - It’s as if she is incapable of thinking.” “Ahh, no wonder she was so convinced you loved her the most.” Ramsay was almost fascinated with the way she pretended to care for Myranda’s feelings, but the mocking sweet tone with which she was talking only made it even more amusing, were it not for the internal anger he felt simply thinking about that wretch. “Did she speak ill of you in any way?” he asked, his voice almost showing his rage and how close he was to marching up and wringing her neck like a pigeon’s. “Oh no, not at all! Though she did mention some other ladies. One tall with a lovely figure, though very talkative. The other, she said, got pregnant... And the last one was a sweet girl, just like me - And, just like me, she was also incredibly boring - Or so Myranda described them. Ah... What were their names... Forgive me, I cannot remember their names... No, wait - I think one of them was... Kyra? Was she the blacksmith’s daughter? Ah, yes, she was the talkative one, who talked so much that she bored you to death... Just like I am, right now...” she stopped speaking abruptly, turning her head to the side as though to mimic guilt and shame. “If anyone speaks too much is Myranda, not you.” Ramsay got in a sitting position, dragging her up with him. “Has she also told you what I did with them, once I got bored of them? Has she threatened you?” “I’m very happy to know that I’m not disinteresting you with how much I’m chatting - You see, I’m used to talking so much with people I like, I tend to forget all courtesies.” she, inching closer to him. “Speak as much as you will, I find not only your voice, but your words also, to be enticing and worth hearing.” the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. “Myranda told me about these... Hunts you’re attending. She did say you allowed her to join you once, and I... Was wondering if you’d entertain me also with such activity. I believe I proved my sharpshooter skills last month.” she leaned in so close to his face that he could almost feel her plump lips touching his. “Oh, sweet lady, if only you knew what that implied, you wouldn’t be wearing that innocent smile on this perfect face of yours.” his chuckle sent shivers down her spine. “But I do know, my darling. I do know.” his eyebrows slowly rose up in surprise. “I don’t need the image of a small, pink, flayed man to know that your hunts must hold some kind of peculiarity that would serve as entertainment.” she smiled more. “Are those lovely dogs involved too?” The air was punched out of his lungs - How can someone so perfectly angelic, so seemingly innocent, this noble lady that’s supposed to be frail like a flower - She was speaking so tenderly and sweet about hunting people! She was an oxymoron, and he, was in love with her. “I want you to come for every hunt from now on, my Moon Queen.” That happy smile, along with the soft pink painting her cheeks, only made his heart beat so, so fast in anticipation. “Can we have Myranda’s hunt soon?” that venomous sweetness was enough to drive the bastard over the edge, and instinctively he grabbed her hips and brought her over his lap, pulling her flush against his chest. Her slender legs straddling him, and the way she felt against his pelvis only made him grow wilder and his grip on her flesh got tighter. He wasn’t thinking when he tried to slam his lips against her own, nor did he realise that instead of those petals, his mouth came in contact with her palm. Through his bewilderment, he noticed that vixen-like grin of hers, unreadable and enigmatic. “Sweet Ramsay, you are running so fast to action, you’re intimidating me. I am not Kyra, nor Violet or Tansy... And least of all, not your dearest Myranda. Are you trying to scare a little maiden such as myself?” Slowly she removed her hand, gazing at the man’s beautiful blue eyes. “Could it be that you’re intentionally trying to get a rise out of me? “ “Is it working?” the way she tilted her head to the side so cutely made him want to throw her down on the bed and claim her. “It is.” he admitted, his jaw gritted down as a way of holding back his animalistic urges. “Good!” that cheeky, chirpy way she exclaimed drove him mad, as she rolled to the side and cuddled into him. “Will you keep me warm, sweet Ramsay?” “Every night, my sweet lady.”

How was he supposed to keep his hands from lingering down that warm skin of hers, or hold back from having his fingers grip down on her flesh so hard that it left bruises, all due to his insatiable desire for her? If she was just any slave girl from the North, he could have shackled her down and claimed her in any way he so imagined - And only the Gods knew how very creative he was when it came to the pleasure-taking he was crazy over... But Y/N was from an affluent family, renowned all over Westeros and far beyond, second only to the Lannisters. Even if he wanted to re-enact all his perverse fantasies about this mischievous little vixen, he knew there will be hell to pay, and any claim of legitimacy would be thrown out the window.

Still, she didn’t seem opposed to getting intimately close to him in the least - She showed no signs of fear when she implied hunting down Myranda, nor did she seem intimidated by the bitch’s failed attempts of taunting her - More, she made her cry, if the story was as true as she claimed it to be, and truly, he was disappointed that he wasn’t there to watch the interaction go. He long knew how annoyingly jealous Myranda was of any girl that he bedded or showed any kind of personal interest in, going as far as to sabotage them, and more - But she was beginning, at a rapid pace even, to get stale, and no amount of perversion or unheard of pleasing methods could save her from her fate if she continued to whine about any silly little thing.

Y/N was different - He could read what she was thinking, and the games she played were far more interesting. She was fun to be around, and that innocent act of hers, pretending to be a small and naive little bunny, all righteous and benevolent was nothing more than the beauty of a rose with poisoned thorns. Here she lay, her body softly going up and down with each of her inhales and exhales, as she slept so peacefully, nuzzled to his side, just like a fawn cuddling with a predator ready to tear her apart - But she trusted the killer wouldn’t harm her. Was it because of her status? Her family? Or simply, she could feel how taken he was with her, from the very first second that his eyes met hers and he saw that playful and slightly illicit twinkle in those beautiful eyes of hers?

For a whole week he will have her all for himself, yet at arm length; So close, yet so very far away, and no matter how much he wanted to snatch that beautiful, blooming flower of hers, he was forcefully held back, shackled to the wall and left to drip with lust like a ferocious wolf watching a lamb with snow-white fleece, prance around fearing no danger in the world.

Patience was never one strong suit of his, but now, he had to be. He cared little that Y/N Tyrell was a noble woman and being with her would help his claims at legitimacy, and he cared even less that he had to marry a woman of status whilst having promised the flock of girls surrounding him already his heart. He had no heart - And even if he did, it was already taken by the sheep wearing wolf’s clothing and strutting around him, just closely out of reach. He wanted to eat her whole, and then some more. He wanted to drink her honey and feast on her strawberry tarts, sickly sweet yet so addicting. He wanted to hear her sing the thrills of the nightingales every night as he looks down from above her, and he wants to feel the way her body dances involutarily from the pleasure he offers her.

And most of all, he wanted to see that pleasure-drunk expression of hers, all bashful as she’s driven off the edge, and while she tries to hide from shame, he’s going to force her to look him straight into his eyes and drink in her gasps and moans with another kiss, feeling her stiff body gradually grow lax in his arms, seeing only the stars, and him amongst them.

Their sharing of not only a room but the bed also continued for the rest of the week, without Y/N even bothering to blame Myranda’s lack of brain for the coldness of her own dormitory - She has made it clear already that she simply wanted to display a pretext to sleep with him, and Ramsay was more than thrilled with such a notion - After all, it wasn’t often that he fell asleep and woke up to the same woman, beautiful above all and enticing as very select few.

Still, if Ramsay could feel jealousy, it would be on his own dogs, though he’d rather say he was feeling as territorial as his bitches, yet maybe not even then. He was more than content to see someone actually capable of bonding with his dogs as well as he did, while also being obeyed so well. One would think the daughter of the kennel master would know dogs better than human - Alas, Myranda was capable of none of those - But Y/N was, and that mattered most.

“There, there, mommy, you and your sweet puppies have to stay comfortable and warm. The cold of the North is very harsh, even if you’re used to it.” the mother dog whined, happy, as she was being spoiled, kissed and caressed by the woman. Y/N continued praising and loving the dog, and though she was a large breed with long, thick, black hair, looking more like a bear than a dog, she had the cutest name - Faye. Y/N wondered who Faye was, before she was killed - How did she get so dull that Ramsay had her kill, who was she while still alive, how did she look and so on. “Beautiful, sweet Faye, you are so loved, my darling.” she was so absorbed in her pampering of the canine that she didn’t hear the intruder stepping towards them until it was too late. “You stupid girl - These are hunting dogs, not pets! They are supposed to stay vicious, starved, to mauls and rip apart the prey... Not... Not this - Whatever this is! You’ve ruined them! Ruined the whole batch and the bitch!” Myranda’s glare was as harsh as the wind that was blowing outside. “I beg to disagree Myranda, though I can see why it would seem offensive, considering you were born and raised among dogs. You see - Fear is a double-edged sword when it comes to obedience. Dogs may be loyal, but fear is fickle. They can always turn on you, if pushed enough. If you treat them well, they will treat you just as well, but tenfold. Just like people.” Y/N smiled defiantly at her, only making her growl as well as any mutt. “Why did you come here?! To steal my man? To steal my job? You’re already so rich that you don’t know what to do with your wealth - Did you come here specifically to bring me misery and rob me of anything I have?!” Myranda’s yelling only proved to make the dog snarl at her as a warning. “Even the dogs hate me now - Because of you!” “Once again, I’m inclined to disagree, mostly because... Living beings aren’t property and Ramsay was never yours. If you want to play technicalities, it was you who was his, not the other way around - Even more, you were... Naive enough to believe he would actually marry you. Silly girl, you don’t know him half as well as you think you do.” the Tyrell’s mocking smile proved enough to drive the other one off the edge of her sanity, and she took out a dagger from her waist and tried to push her away to get ahold of the pups and kill them. What a stupid move, Y/N thought as she grabbed her arm and tried to wrestle her off. “Have you gone mad?! How could you do that?!” “GET OFF ME, YOU STUPID WHORE! I’M GETTING RID OF ANY LINGER OF YOUR PRESENCE IN THIS PLACE - BEGINNING WITH THIS LOT, AND NEXT - YOU!” Myranda’s growls echoed through the humid kennels as she tried to launch at the dogs once more, but the noblewoman leapt up to shield them, her shoulder proving the stabbing point of the blade. “Leave, Myranda! Get out and calm yourself - You’re being irrational!” Faye, too, jumped to her paws and started aggressively roaring at the attacker, ready to maul her off the same as she did for her namesake - But she stopped, as soon as another pair of steps seemed to bother the squaffle between the two women.

Ramsay’s blue eyes, usually frozen as the water of the North, were now blazing with pure rage - How dare that whore attempt to kill his beautiful Y/N? Did she have a death wish and had no clue how to act upon it? He had as many inventive killing methods, as he had pleasuring ones, and perhaps even more - Myranda, of all people, the expendable woman who lasted the longest so far should have known best. “Myranda.” his voice seemed even colder than the weather outside, and the woman seemed to submissively let the knife drop with a loud, resounding clank, as she stepped away with tearful eyes. “M-My Love...! Y-You’re here! You - You have to see what she’s done, she -- She was trying to TAME the girls, she -- She was SPOILING them! She was RUINING them! My love, you must do something about this--” even louder than the sound the dagger made, the slap which she received was enough to make even Y/N flinch, watching Myranda painfully fall to the ground like a sack of potatoes. “M-My love...?!” she seemed absolutely betrayed - What a delusional woman. “You have been testing my patience recently, Myranda. If I’d known you were suicidal, I’d have killed you already. Not only you bore me to death, you also piss me off. That’s a worse transgression than either of those before you. I’ve been merciful and understanding with you so far, but I’ve reached my limit.” Myranda, terrified out of her mind, scrambled over to embrace his feet, only to get kicked in the face and made to fly backwards. She was crying rivers. “Don’t touch me with those filthy hands of yours.” he sneered at her.

Leaving her to grovel on the ground, Ramsay stepped in front of his beloved and carefully touched her bleeding shoulder. He slipped off the material of her dress, only to hear the large dog snarling at him. “Shhh, sweetling, don’t worry, he means no harm to me. Thank you for protecting me, my sweet Faye.” Ramsay watched the tender way with which she was praising the dog, and petting her hair. Maternal bitches were fickle and dangerous, yet with Y/N, Faye seemed completely loyal. Good. “Come. I’ll treat it for you.” he spoke gently to her, hoping the harshness of his tone had completely dissipated. Y/N worriedly looked down at Myranda - the Bastard realised she was afraid not for her, but for the neurotic behaviour she displayed as she tried to attack the pups. “I don’t trust her around Faye and her puppies. I don’t want them to get injured because of her.” “THE DOGS ARE TAINTED BECAUSE OF YOU! YOU RUINED THEM!” before Myranda could recover the knife, Y/N already kicked it away - Though the woman was so far gone that she tackled her to the ground, yelling all sorts of perversions and curses as she tried to get ahold of the noble lady’s throat and squeeze the life out of her. Before Ramsay could rip her off, and throw her in the dungeons to punish later, Faye leapt sprung on her and threw her off her new master, chewing at her arms and legs. “Faye! Sweetling, stop, come here - Faye! Leave her be!” much to the bastard’s shock, the dog obeyed immediately and went to the lady’s side, licking at her wound and standing protectively over here. “There, there, sweet girl. Clever girl. You are fantastic.” Ramsay almost felt jealous, with the amount of kisses the bitch was receiving, but the fact still stood - The dog’s loyalty changed in the course of five days. Myranda was the enemy, whilst Y/N was the loving master whom the dog obeyed. Fascinating. He wasn’t sure if the dog could sense the kindness and purity of her soul, or simply, behaved like any manipulated human - But whatever it was that Y/N was doing, she was doing perfectly fine, the same as when she captured his interest and made him fawn over her so completely. “Faye, stand down girl. I’ll take care of Y/N for you.” he felt compelled to offer the dog a few pats on her head, and surprisingly, she licked his hand affectionately - It must have been the way he was always by Y/N’s side whenever she spoiled the dogs, why Faye now possibly saw him as this benevolent master all of a sudden - It was even better than he expected. “As for you, Myranda...” he glared down with disgust at the cowering woman. “Make yourself comfortable in the dungeons.” she whimpered, afraid of the consequences of her own actions. Y/N has completely bewitched her beloved Ramsay Snow. She ruined him.

As Y/N sat on the edge of his bed, her bare shoulder being carefully treated by the man with unexpected delicacy and tenderness - He wasn’t even aware that he, Ramsay Snow, the feared bastard of the North, kneeling in front of her, was capable of something like this... But somehow, it felt... Good. It felt... Natural, like this was how things were supposed to go. He was to protect his fair maiden, and she was to look at him with those pretty eyes of hers, bat her lashes so bashfully and offer him a timid smile. “Does it hurt, my sweet flower?” he looked in her eyes so deep... Deep enough, as he wished he would be buried in her already. “You are very attentive with me, my dear, there is nothing that can hurt if it is you caring for me.” was she using such words to purposely throw him off the rails? Did she want to be thrown on the bed and claimed on the spot? To have her sweet flower taken from her - And that he’ll be gentle with her, and loving, and will make sure it won’t hurt at all? “My intention is to make sure you’re never going to experience anything negative, especially pain. I will deal with that wench later.” he found himself gulping - The more he looked at the unveiled skin, the more he wanted to rip the thin material of her dress and see her in all her glory. “You will have to excuse Myranda. She... Was not in the right state of mind. It cannot be easy for her to accept that... Well... She might still have some more to learn.” Ramsay could see how she tried to find the rights words as to not outright shade the bitch who attacked her, and still maintain that darling facade of hers. “Stop trying to protect her.” he snapped at her. “She knows the rules. If she breaks them, it is her own fault.” Ramsay didn’t realise the edge of his voice until it was too late. “Forgive my tone, My Lady, I didn’t mean to scare you.” But she wasn’t scared, he noticed - Instead, she smiled at him, almost as though it enticed her. “There is nothing to forgive, my sweet Ramsay, after all, you simply spoke your mind - And you are right - She is your servant, and you know best the way to discipline them. She is old enough to know how to play this game, and if she was too incompetent to get a grip, it is her own fault. I will not attempt to shield her again from any scolding you’d wish to instill upon her.” Y/N could feel Ramsay’s hands stop working on her wound, and after wrapping it up properly, he rose to his feet, cupping her face. “Then, would you join me in her hunt, after we’ve returned from Winterfell?” that sweet, excited smile of hers made his heart beat so fast that it made his mind go hazy - More, his brain completely stopped working once she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. Her soft lips were even softer than the flowers, and so plump - He never kissed such sweet lips before, nor has he ever been as addicted to kissing a woman as he was with her, after a single kiss. “I would be honoured to join you, my sweet Ramsay.” though he tried to dive in for another kiss, desperate as a thirsty man in the desert, she ducked under his arm and twirled around away from him, a vixen like smile turning his nether regions aflame. “One at a time, sweet Ramsay - One at a time. I wouldn’t want you to get used to quickly to the sweet fragrance of the Moon’s Queen.” her giggle as she waltzed out of the room almost made him lose his balance - What the hell was she doing to him? Maybe Myranda was right, she was destroying and eroding away at his mind to the point of manipulation - Was she manipulating him? Maybe she was, but he didn’t mind anymore - He needed her like he never needed anything else - And one day, he was going to have her for himself, and never share her with anyone else. Y/N Tyrell was his and only his.

Once the week was over, the Tyrell family were finally moving towards the colder regions of the Seven Kingdoms, all the way to the castle of the Stark family, after stopping to the Dreadfort to collect the eldest daughter. Though cold and snowing, the landscapes were already so beautiful, despite how different they looked from back home. The cold shades of green, white, grey and blue were fantastically blended together into such a picturesque framed painting made by the best artists.

The journey was long and tedious, but it was well worth once they arrived to their destination - They were welcomed very warmly, especially by the children, and were shown their rooms. Y/N and Margaery were also shown the hot baths, so they could relax after such a long ride, and they could use it every time they wished to. The feast was rich and very delicious, but something was missing - A certain Bastard from the Dreadfort, who was to arrive the following day - Why he hadn’t joined Y/N, she was not yet aware, but he promised a surprise, to keep her excited and expecting.

The very next day, Y/N was awaiting the untimely arrival of her favourite bastard by doing the most boring things - Giving embroidery lessons to Sansa, Arya, Jeyne and her sister, made by Lady Catelyn and their Septa. How absolutely terrible, doing nothing but embroidering handkerchiefs and dresses. Dull.

When finally, the Sun went down and allowed the majestic moon rise up, the retinue was invited to the feast - And down there, already waiting at a table, was him - The man with brunet hair and the most piercing blue eyes - He had risen his head to scan the commotion, and upon seeing the girl, a smirk had taken place over his previously bland expression. Getting to his feet, he stepped in front of Lady Y/N and bent at the waist, taking her hand and kissing it. Had she gotten more attractive in the time they were apart, or was he simply missing her too much? It has been barely three days - Why was he so addicted to her?

Just like before, the children were sat at a table, to enjoy the merry feast, the singing and the laughter - But feasts were just that, feasts - And Y/N had always thought feasts were boring as all hells, and she was in grave need of entertainment.

“Sweet Ramsay, you once promised to show me the ethereal, vivid lights of the sky that only the North hosts. Let us slip away from this banquet and have a walk, shall we?” young Y/N whispered into the ear of the bastard, only to get up and leave the halls of the Stark feast, hoping that the brunet wouldn’t take too long to follow - And thankfully, he didn’t, for he was right by her side, with his furs over her, seeing as she shivered once she came in contact with the harsh, cold wind. “Your health comes first, My Lady. If it gets too cold for you, we can always return on the morrow, there is no rush.” Ramsay had his arm around her small form, keeping her flushed to his side, under the pretense of keeping her warm. “Alright, alright, that is quite the bargain. Is it far from here?” she kept trying to imagine the snowy cliff that he described days and months prior, but no matter how much she tried, nothing compared to the crystal-like sparkle of the snow as it reflected the silvery light. “Careful steps, My Lady, the ground is frozen and you might slip.” he pointed out, keeping a tight grip on her, worrying with every wobble she’d make. “How darling of you, my dear... Oh, this forest is gorgeous! This green amongst all this fluffy snow... How lovely!” her excited admiring came to a halt soon. “... Ah! Not so lovely when it’s so cold...” the girl eeped as the snow from one of the branches fell onto her head, mixing with her hair as if it was a flower crown. “How clumsy of you, Lady Y/N. Thankfully, we have arrived. Be very careful, the cliff is steep and there is a lake right underneath.” the man warned as he guided her onto the cliff.

As soon as she stepped out of the woods, she gasped and looked up - The dark blue sky was painted with such a vivid palette of colours that she’s never seen even in the most renowned paintings all over Westeros, or far beyond. The way they undulated in the sky, and how, with the scenery, it almost seemed as if a soft lullaby was playing in tune with every move.

Ramsay told her an old tale that, up there, the lights represent the running souls of every animal that ever lived here, in the North, and that it plays with its kin forevermore. The more he spoke, the more fascinated the girl was, and with that, her eyes sparkled even brighter than the moon and stars combined. How could a creature be so beautiful, in her own innocence? And, most of all, why doesn’t he want to break and taint her? Why doesn’t he want to rip her apart and destroy any ounce of hope and happiness embroidered in that heart of hers?

Instead, he reached his hands up to her hair and kicked some of the snow off, letting only a circlet of frozen flowers around her hair. He gazed down, deep into her eyes that were shining with more life and bliss than he’s ever experienced before in his entire life. He wanted to drink her in like the sweetest ale there was and never let her go. “I may not be able to make you a true Queen, however, My Lady, if you would have me, I would love for you to be my Moon’s Queen. A flower more beautiful than any other around her.” though she looked absolutely mesmerised, she leaned in and shared a sweet kiss with the northman, whose cold hands warmed as he held gingerly her soft face. “I have been rather spoiled until this age, I must say. Not only I had no betrothal obligation, but I could freely pursue any of my passions. I would love nothing more than to call you mine own sweet love, though I have not asked for permission from mine Lord Father. I... I dare not go against his kindness.” though her response was timid, the man before her merely kissed her forehead reassuringly. “Worry not about such trivialities, my sweetling. If you so desire, all shall be taken care of.” his heart was beating so fast, just like an obsessed child that finally got the toy he wanted so badly - He felt absolutely on fire with so many emotions that he couldn’t even name. He felt so powerfully that he could almost feel his fingers digging into her flesh to the point of grinding her bones. It was such a strong feeling of possessiveness - Having Y/N being HIS was like a dream, and he was not going to let anyone take her away from him. ”The reason for arriving so late was that we were awaiting a letter from the King.” he spoke, and on his face, a wide grin that looked almost boyish graced his features. “It is long since I have awaited the good news to come - So long, that I feared they may never come - At last, however, my Lord Father had received the letter.” he quickly took the letter from his pocket, and almost shoved it into the girl’s hands from excitement. The girl, with her frozen fingers, took the paper into her own hands and her eyes skimmed over it - And she gasped, throwing her arms around his neck. “Ramsay -- You did it! You did it! Finally -- O, I am so happy for you!” she pulled him into a few more kisses, much faster and chaste, but they only made the man feel sublime bliss and euphoria. He felt as if he was flying. “Lord Ramsay Bolton.” she breathed out. “That sounds beautiful. Congratulations, my darling, you deserve it. You are now the legitimate heir.” her smile widened even more. “Now that I am a real Lord, I can properly court you and ask your father for your hand in marriage.” he enjoyed so dearly watching the happiness in those fawn eyes of hers - He never imagined that there would ever be a person that would be so genuine with him. She had no reason to use him, and she never scolded him, or looked down on him for being a bastard. In fact, she treated him so much better than anyone ever did, including his own whore of a mother whilst growing up at the mill, or even that heinous Lord father who hated him.

The only one who actually tried to form a bond with him was his half brother... Too bad Ramsay had no intention of having Bolton siblings that would be named heir in his stead. “And once you do... Will you finally tell me of your... Inconspicuous passions of yours? Officially, this time.” the man froze, and his eyes widened in surprise, and a slightly sense of fright - Does she know of his hunting? Or the flaying? Would she run away if she did? He never did confirm anything back at the Dreadfort - Had she somehow gone down to the dungeons and witnessed the tortured and flayed victims? Had Myranda described in morbid details the hunts he officiated? “What is with that look, Lord Bolton? It is unbecoming of someone like you.” she giggled teasingly. “What better way to strike fear into your enemies, than showing them the true meaning of the symbol of your own House?” Ramsay looked at her, flabbergast - Did he hear those words correctly? That sweet voice of hers, uttering such... Things? Without any bit of fear? “My Lady, what is it that you are implying?” his own voice went lower, barely audible. “Ah, I see, you must be finding some kind joy out of having a lady speaking bluntly.” she hummed as the corner of her mouth twitched upwards, amused, and she brought him closer to her body. “I feel much safer by the side of a man who is unafraid of protecting his people by any means necessary... Whether or not he takes pleasure from inflicting pain on his enemies.” speaking into his ear made the man shudder slightly. “As long as it is not me that comes to harm... Anything goes... And anything can be... Entertaining.” Ramsay gulped and roughly brought the girl at arm’s length, looking down at her with even wider eyes - His breathing was ragged, his heart was beating so, so very fast, and he was feeling heated. In an instant, the new Lord brought his Lady into a deep kiss, from which he didn’t want to let go. How he wanted to bring her to his home again and hold her slender body to his own, without the pestering feeling of so many layers upon layers of furs, leathers and plush clothing. “You saw right through me, did you not, My Lady?” he asked, between kisses. “And so have you, My Lord.” she retorted immediately, stepping backwards, her hair messy, and in need of breathing.

The lingering feeling of her sweet and delicate petal-like lips left him in such a drunken state, that he didn’t realise the predator going to destroy his new-found euphoria. Before he realised what was going on, Y/N was pushed out of his embrace, close to the edge of the cliff. Ramsay could see the fear and confusion in her eyes, as a loud crack was heard from the hanging body of land she was sprawled over. He yelled out her name and leapt to grab ahold of her hand, hopefully drag her to a safer part of the cliff, but before he could get anywhere close to her, the edge surped, aided by a perfectly aimed arrow, and the girl fell to her doom.

Unable to get up from the snowy ground, Ramsay was in a deep daze, and strongly spiraling. Just now, he had that sweet flower right in his arms, and she was HIS, and now, she had fallen, away from his reach. He was going to destroy the person who did it. Outright shatter. Rip their nails, flay them, pour salt on their flesh, break their bones, gouge their eyes out, pull out each of their teeth, cut a few fingers and toes...

“My love, are you alright?” that voice... That awful voice... He should have wringed her neck and ripped apart her vocal chord and every strand of her hair, should have bashed her skull against the wall until only mush remained. “M-My love...?” how dare she call him that? When did he ever give her the consent to ever use such an endearing name for him, when she’s nothing more than a toy for him to use as he pleases? Has she forgotten her place? Or did she rightfully anticipate that, once he marries Y/N Tyrell, he would throw her in a hunt and get rid of her permanently? What a scared cunt. She doesn’t deserve any bit of him. But why was she in Winterfell, to begin with? She was not taken in the Bolton party - She was supposed to be at the Dreadfort, taking care of the kennel. Pathetic and disobedient. There was going to be hell to pay. “You stupid, dumb cunt. What have I told you, all this time? You think that killing Y/N would make me spare you? No, Myranda, you are dead wrong. Jealousy bores me. You know what happens to people who bore me. And not only you bored me, but you angered me beyond any boundary. You know what I’m going to do to you, don’t you, you dumb whore.” in his fit of rage, he wasn’t even able to rejoice in the desperate, frightened cries, nor in the complete fear that was gleaming in her eyes. No amount of blood spilled on his body, nor how much pain he was putting her through helped, because just like the broken marionette that she was, her strings were cut and she was easily thrown in the trash, where she belonged. But she wasn’t dead - And nor did he want her dead... Not just yet. “If you want me to spare you, you better return home. Otherwise... I will make sure I find you - And when I do... You will wish that the cold had taken you.” Ramsay threatened the woman after choking her, before he took off some of the layers of fur and stared down at the freezing cold water - He was a northman, he had taken such baths before. He wasn’t fond of them, but he was resistant to the cold. All northmen had to get their body strong and immune to such freezing temperatures since very young. “Y/N... Y/N, I will find you... Whether you are dead or alive, I will find your body.” he muttered to himself during his hyper-fixated state, and he jumped down from the cliff, diving down into the bone-chilling freezing water and swimming down.

He easily spotted the girl, as his own fur coat was weighting her down massively, but thanks to his northman strength, he took off her coat and managed to swim up with both the unconscious girl and the furs that will prove, once dry, a perfect means of keeping her body temperature up. That is, if he can even get that thick thing to dry any time soon.

Though difficult, Ramsay was able to swim to the surface and picked the girl up in his arms, looking for some shelter, and much to his shock, there was a small fisherman’s hut and a fire seemed to illuminate from the inside. He knocked on the door, hoping the peaceful method would make due, but as the fisherman answered the door and outright denied them entry, seeing the pin of the Flayed Man on his vest, Ramsay blocked the door with his boot, and leaning the girl on one of his arms, he took out a dagger and slit the old man’s throat.

What a dumbass. He was going to let him live, should he have been more hospitable. Too bad.

Carefully, the bastard placed the unconscious girl on the furs on the ground so he could take off her clothes and put them on the string to dry, just next to the hot fire that the fisherman had made to cook a stew. ‘Perfect’ the man thought, knowing the girl would need to eat something warm to get better.

But thoughts about the stew were far gone as he reached her undergarments and instinctually pulled them away, leaving her soft body on display. Though a hue milky to light blue from the freezing water, she still looked so enticing that Ramsay thought, just by looking alone, his clothes would dry immediately from how hot he felt. He could catch fire and immolate immediately from how he was suffocating.

The Bolton bastard couldn’t believe that he got to see his paramour’s body like that, thought he was glad that at least, he knew how to save her. How to care for a hypothermic body, how to maintain a fire, dry the furs and make food - Otherwise, she’d be long dead.

Still, he put his own clothes on the string to dry after putting the only blanket available over the girl, tucking her in... But it wasn’t enough. She was shivering, and she looked paler than before. His body was feeling even more hot now that he realised the only way to warm her up was to hold her naked body flushed to his own. What a sacrilege for noblemen of this era. Lady Y/N Tyrell was an unmarried maiden, she should choose death, rather than allow her skin to be touched by a man - A bastard, no less, be him legitimized or not... Or at least, that’s how that stupid church dictated the laws.

He was going to burn the church from the ground and hold Y/N so tight that all of his lustful fire would transfer to her. Getting behind her, he wrapped his strong arms over her small form and kept stroking her damp hair, hoping to take some of the water away from it.

Time was passing at an unknown time, but unlike her body, his was feeling ablaze. His grip tightened even more once he heard his name being spoken out so lightly, barely above a whisper. Ahh, the way she was mewling out his name - “Ramsay... Ramsay...” was driving him crazy to the point of spontaneously combusting. “Yes, my sweet flower, I am here. Do not fear, I am right here.” he mumbled into her ear, yet it seemed to be left unheard. “Cold... S-So cold... So... C-Cold...” she kept shivering over and over in such a weak voice that it made the bastard’s nether regions go aflame from lust. Her weakened state was so fragile and easy to break. Her body and mind were completely in his hands, and he had complete control over her very being. “We have been staying this way for hours, my sweetling. Are you still cold?” he asked, frowning as he realised that her trembling hasn’t diminished in the least and that her skin was as cold as ice. “Cold... Too cold...” she was repeating the same words like a broken doll. Pondering, Ramsay immediately jolted into a sitting position, taking the girl up to sit on his lap, her soft chest pressed flush against his own. He could feel her hardened rose buds poking him from the cold. “Are you really cold, my darling?” he asked in an almost poisoned-sweet voice, watching her head lull as she nuzzled her face into the side of his neck, her hands placed on his chest, humming in approval. She was so out of it from the cold, it was unreal how vulnerable she was. “I know a way to make you warm from the inside out, but a sweet maiden like you, with no husband, might not agree to it.” he teased her girl in a low, sultry voice. “I’mm’a d-die... S-So cold... D-Don’t wanna...” hearing that, the man cupped her face and made her look at him - Her hooded lids and dazed expression was enough of a trigger for him, and he didn’t await any other answer. He pulled her into a deep kiss, so filled with passion as he’s never kissed anyone ever before, and his hands pulled the blanket over her form, before he got a firm grip on her hips. “Do you want me to warm you up, despite not being you husband? Do you want me, Y/N? Tell me that you want me, Y/N, and I will make you feel as though you are back in that comforting warmth of Highgarden. Just say the words, Y/N. Say them.” he kept pressuring her between kisses, and for a few moments, she felt lucid. Those firm, warm hands were dragging her soul back to her body and re-awakening her miraculously. “You said I was your Moon’s Queen, didn’t you? Then, it matters little whether I have yet a husband or not, for I have you. You said you will go to my father and ask for us to be married. Do not keep me waiting any longer, I am freezing.” the little flower was demanding of him, how brave of her, Ramsay thought, as he felt himself suffocating with desire. “People of Highgarden are free to explore their pleasure, you once said. Have you ever been touched by a man?” the girl shook her head. “A woman, perhaps?” once again, she denied. “Yourself...?” nothing. “Not as adventurous as you claim, are you, my dear?” “Stop taunting me... I’m freezing.” she muttered, casting her gaze to the side, only to feel the skin of her neck attacked by those lips of his, kissing all over, and licking and sucking, even grazing his teeth, almost as if biting. The girl could barely contain her sweet sighs, her fingers holding tightly onto his shoulders for support. “Don’t hide those beautiful sounds from me, Y/N. I want to witness everything about you.” that low husky voice made the hair on the back of her neck stand up from desire. He wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment, the beginning of a sickness, or simply, the cold, but those splendid eyes of hers were gleaming - It only made her look even more ethereal, if that was even possible. “Your tears are getting me excited, my darling flower - It couldn’t be that this was your plan all along, could it? Fall into my arms like a damsel in distress and seduce me with the sweet melody of a nightingale?” kissing down her throat, Ramsay could feel the vibration of a whimper, which only made him feel more suffocated. “You are driving me crazy, Y/N.” “You’re going to kill me before you can warm me up properly - Was this your plan, then? To make me die of embarrassment?” her bottom lip quivered softly, feeling his hardening member putting pressure on the length of her watery slit. “What is there to be embarrassed about, my sweet flower? It is only what a husband should do to his lovely lady. In fact, it should be me complaining about the things that you do to me. The amount of restraint that I proved was above what I imagined myself capable of.” he sighed into her ear, making her shiver against his touch. “You came over into my bed, nights on end, wearing only that sheer nightgown of yours. You think men and animals aren’t alike, my lady, but when you tease me, there is not much I can do to hold back the feral desire that I have for you.” he felt one of your hands caressing his cheek, then raking up through the messy dark ringlets of his hair, tugging lightly at him - He gritted his teeth to the point of thinking they were going to shatter. He was losing his grip on reality, but he knew he couldn’t give up yet - He didn’t want to harm his sweet flower. “It was no different for me, my sweet Ramsay - Bound to rules and regulations, and a desire to drive you crazy enough to want me more than air itself.” the weak smirk of hers only made him pull her into deeper kisses, his tongue slipping in to explore every inch of her mouth. “I wanted have you as crazy in love for me, as you made me for you. Do you have any idea how much I wanted your arms around me, and you to speak only my name? I want you mine and nobody else’s.” “You’ve been a good girl for me, my sweet flower. Let me reward you for all the times that you’ve teased me to the point of losing my restraints. Were it not for the need of warming you, I would have taken my time with you more, until you were such a mess that the only word you remembered was mine name. I wanted to see you come undone before me, times and times again, and still, I wouldn’t have been satisfied.” carefully, he lay her down on the bed, her back slightly raised by the mound the fur blanket made for her. “It is about time I spoil my sweet lady the way she deserves.”

Ramsay’s hands were on either side of her head, looking down at the precious lady, with her long hair sprawled all over, and a glazed expression of bliss mixed with love and lust sparkling in her eyes. For the first time, Y/N was exposing herself as vulnerable and willing to submit to his every whim. One of his hands trailed down her throat - And oh how delicious she looked with his hand clasping over her neck - And down to the mounds of her breast and the erect buds which he teased with a short pinch. The small twitch of her body only made him feel more smug, as he attacked the rose bud with his tongue, one arm underneath her torso to keep herself up, while the other went down to feel her thigh, and in between. All her beautiful skin was hers to touch, and it was no longer as freezing cold as before. “You are mine, Y/N.” he whispered against her skin as his fingers found their way teasingly trailing across her womanhood with such gentleness that she thought it was a feather torturing her with anticipation. “Then make me yours.” her comment him chuckle, the vibration against her skin instinctively making her bite her lip as she tried to close her legs to create some friction for her aching, teased core. “I will, darling, I will - Be patient. It is your fault that I can’t help myself from taking my sweet time teasing you. Your body is so honest, betraying your need for me.” a soft gasp escaped as he pulled her thighs apart. “Much better, isn’t it?” and he trailed his fingers towards the little bundle that he knew would create such desperate reactions. “I can’t allow you to do this to yourself. It is me who makes you feel this way - And it is me who will offer you your sweet release.” “You’re so cruel to me - It’s not fair!” she breathed out, her cheeks reddening, her body squirming for his touch. “Are you feeling bothered just from this, my sweetling? Well - Aren’t you the most precious little thing in the world.” he really couldn’t help himself - His lips found themselves over hers once more, and he took turns between kissing and biting at those soft petals, whilst his hand was applying more pressure, all the way from the top, and downwards, at such an agonizingly slow pace. His touch was intoxicating. It was maddening. This man was insane, and everything he did made her head spin with every repeated motion, each time, with more and more pressure applied, feeding onto every little gasp and twitch and whimper, her inability to keep quiet making him go feral. “Sing for me, my little nightingale - I love your melody the most.” he said as he held her face up, forcing her to looking into his crazy eyes - Eyes dripping with lust and obsession - He was watching her like a sadist as she tried to keep any bit of composure she had left, and as he cupped her womanhood, playing with her special bud to the point that her body twitched and she gasped - Her torso arches whilst she gripped down on the furs and her legs tried to close once again. “Now THAT is the reaction I was hoping for!” he found himself laughing like an obsessed child, happy to get his puppet move the way it wanted. He drank in her moans as the hand gripping her face was now carefully placed over her throat. “I could snap your neck so easily, like the frail flower that you are - Yet here I am, indulging you to the point of driving myself mad, not only you. You have made a fool out of me, my darling.” Through hooded lids, Y/N looked up at the gorgeous face of the man having far too much fun pleasuring her. “You’re already killing me in more ways than you realise.” with a smirk, his mouth trailed down with kisses from her forehead, down to her chin and her now unveiled throat, and down to her chest, grazing his teeth against her nipple, almost as if he was trying to distract her from the way his fingers were slipping on the wetness of her core.

“My, my, so needy for me, aren’t you? My sweet little flower is so greedy.” his head slowly lowered down to her abdomen, and between her thighs, planting kisses on the supple flesh of her legs. “I will give you pleasure like no woman in this world felt before.” that low, alluring voice of his hypnotised her as he positioned himself against her cunt, her legs over his shoulders, and gripping on the plush of her thighs, his fingers digging into them firmly while his other hand pinned her waist down onto the bed, rendering her unable to squirm from his intoxicating touch, his lips kissed the sensitive area which sent a bolt of electricity through her veins, earning gasp after gasp and timid moans that only made him ache.

His eyes looked up at her, drinking in the way her body convulsed so sincerely just with the way his tongue was teasing her - But he wanted more - So much more. Sinful sighs echoed through the small cabin as he kissed and sucked at her bud, and then more, when his wet, hot tongue danced inside her cave. Sounds so hedonistic that, should the church have known, would have punished her for being a temptress, though the way she mewled his name... “Ramsay... Ramsay...” so broken, her fingers ripping into the furs, drove him over the edge.

His cock was so hard, just by hearing those lustful please of her, so desperate for him, he couldn’t help but imagine that pretty mouth of hers around him, his hand on the back of her head, pushing her up and down until she choked and cried, sucking and kissing and licking him like he was her last meal on earth, and then more, him painting white with his seed, that innocent fawn-like face of her, gorgeous above all, and down on her teats, and on her hands and body, as she begged for more of his milk like the desperate, needy kitten that she is for him.

Oh, the things he’d have her do for him, in the near future - But for now, he was content edging and pleasuring her, just enough so that she’ll be screaming his name and even her parents will hear her, all the way from Winterfell, and then some more. She was such a good little girl, all for him, so hopeful and obedient, and needy - All for him. ONLY for him. HIS Y/N.

“R-Ramsay, stop, I-I... I can’t, I--” that pitched, broken cry, trying to hard to remain coherent yet unable to, as her legs tried to clamp around his head and even his hand was unable of holding her down completely. Lady Y/N Tyrell has experienced her first sweet release, all thanks to his tongue alone. “What a good girl, Y/N - Was it good, my darling? Do you want more?” he asked, his hands gripping on her tights, holding them on either side of his waist as he towered down to her level, gazing with the eyes of the devil, speaking to her in whispers that would make the devil feel shame. “Y-Yes...” she managed to rasp out despite her embarrassment, yet he took her wrists away from her face as she tried to hide. “Yes - What, my dear? What is it that you want? Tell me what do you want me to do.” he pulled her hands to his face, kissing the inside of her wrist, watching her struggle to speak as honestly as her body did. “I want you - Ramsay, I want you - I want you to claim me. My heart, my soul, my body - Make me yours, my sweet Ramsay. I want you to make me yours.” and how could he resist that sweet voice of hers - The voice of an angel, speaking the filth of the devil - The most beautiful woman in the world craving for his body as much as he did hers. How could he deny her, when he is a slave to her desires. “That’s my good girl.” he cradled her face, refusing to bend down and kiss those sweet lips of hers, and instead, forcing her to watch, to look into his eyes, so dangerously close to her, as he teased her sensitive bundle once again, yet this time, Y/N felt the electricity shortcircuit her wires even more, her whole body felt aflame from the pleasure overheating every inch of her - Every twitch, every mewl, it made the man throb more. He wanted to bury himself inside her warmth at once, but he couldn’t deny how good it felt, toying with her body like this.

The way her body begged so sincerely for him, for his touch, as he entered a single digit into her core - The way she clenched around him only made him imagine the drunkening sensation his cock would feel, held prisoner inside her wet prison. It was no secret - She needn’t say any word, for her body spoke everything she couldn’t, and describes so well the way she loved the way he moved inside of her - So slow, so teasing, curling, sending waves of electrifying pleasure through all her nerves - And he added another finger, and her fingers were digging crevasses into his skin, leaving red trails down his paleness, all from the intense feeling building up more and more. She was so close, Ramsay could feel another release threatening to escape - She was so close, so, so dangerously close that it was excruciating how close it felt -

He took out his fingers and palmed her cunt, applying pressure on her sensitive bundle, making a tragic heat suffocate her, only to turn pained and frustrated from the denial. “Wh-Why... Why did you stop? You sadistic jerk - Is this torture what I deserve for teasing you?” she panted, deep and in agony, as his smirk only widened with twisted wickedness, and positioned himself to her entrance, leaning down over her body as one hand held up her body, while the other he used to hold himself up, trapping the girl completely under him, getting a better angle at abusing the skin of her neck. “Why, you ask? My sweetling, I simply want you to get so completely lost in this feeling that you won’t know anything else but the pleasure I’m giving you.” he muttered in her ear, feeling her stiffen, and pulling her into a passionate kiss, he slowly entered her soaked heat. Each sweet thrill she made, he drak away, and every time his cock touch a sweet spot, her nails would attack his toned back as if she were a kitten destroying the drapes. “You’re taking me so well, my love.” he said, his mind going black, watching himself pully sheathed inside of her, head held back from the pleasure she was feeling, amplified by her mark he was leaving on her skin, to the point that he was unsure there was any bit of skin left untouched and unkissed. A smile almost impish painted her face, succumbing entirely to the hot waves of pleasure drowning her as her walls clenched down around him, unwilling to let him go.

“Look at you, enjoying yourself so shamelessly. I assure you, no noble lady was ever treated this way by her lord husband. Those arrogant fucks are too afraid to explore the body they crave so much. All they know is to make heirs, but they don’t know how to enjoy it.” his breathing was ragged against her skin, though he was unsure if her mind could hear his words properly. The small bulge he created at her belly with each thrust of his member drove him to madness - She were a slave to his body, as much as he was hers - He disallowed her to get used to any pace, be it faster and sloppy, or slower and deep, yet each time, that sweet spot was hit, she’d let out a new sound that he hadn’t heard before. The cabin was filled with nothing but passionate words spoken with such fire and filth. “My sweet flower, do you want your release?” he asked against her lips, her hands gripping his hair as to force him down into a kiss. “Yes...” she exhaled between the passion. “Then beg me, my darling. Beg me to bring you over the edge of this world.” the girl whined, face red with shame. “If you don’t... Well, I’ve already given you a taste of denial. Tonight I’m feeling merciful - I’m giving you a choice... Do you want to cry my name from the pleasure of release, or... Mayhaps you wish to whine as I leave you here all alone.” he gently captured her quivering bottom lip, graving his teeth over its plumpness. “Though, without me filling you, I suppose you’d get desperate enough to pleasure yourself, and... I cannot deny, your insatiable greed is something that I desire to see.” “I will be the one doing the flaying if you dare leave me like this--” he couldn’t help but grin in amusement - How adorable she looked, attempting to threaten him, all because of her neediness. How very precious. “Then come undone for me, my love.” he held her even tighter as his pace roughened, her legs wrapped tight around his getting him even closer to her, if possible.

His name was mewled one last time for the night, a sinful, desperate thrill that drove him to an even more brutal pace as he rode her release, watching pleasure take over her senses - Ramsay buried his face into her shoulder, biting onto her flesh and he felt his own release paint her walls white. Once the clouding euphoria start to unfog his mind, he lazily propped himself up, watching the dazed look on Y/N’s face, her chest heaving up and down as she tried to breathe properly after all the pleasure that he drowned her in. Slowly, he took his cock out of her, watching with a sense of accomplishment and devilry as his seed seeped out of her. He hadn’t felt so good before, with his body pushed flush against a woman’s, not did his mind go hay-write when any cunt would shriek his name as he fucked her into oblivion - Yet that body of hers drove him crazy, and her nightingale song was truly special if it was able to burn him like that.

With a satisfied smirk, Ramsay looked down at her flushed face, and played with a strand of her now dry hair - Though her breathing had evened out to some degree, the high was still possessing her. “Was that treatment worthy of a Queen, my sweet flower?” he spoke, taking the lobe of her ear in his mouth, playfully chewing on it, before tracing the shell of her ear with his tongue. “So... When’s the wedding?” she let out an amused exhale, only to find herself switching positions, placed on his lap and with him already inside of her all the way, his arms almost blowing away the air from her lungs as he embraced her tightly, his body glued to her own. “What - Didn’t think I’d just let you go, did you? I’ve got a lot more of the frustration you pent up on me to release, my dear. It is your fault - Own up to it.”

Though the night was long, it passed by like a breeze for the two lovers, intertwined within their lust and desire for once another, yet once the sun was fully up in the sky and the furs and clothes were all but dry, and the food that the old man cooked was finished, the two left the sinful cabin and returned to the castle that housed the Warden of the North and his people. Though they didn’t stay for long, Ramsay, with his new claim of legitimacy, asked Mace Tyrell for his daughter’s hand in marriage, and seeing his sweet Y/N so excited, he couldn’t help but agree. The Boltons might not be the most affluent family, but relationships in the North were just as important, yet nowhere as much as her happiness.

Once Y/N and Ramsay returned to the Dreadfort for a few days of time spent together, whilst the Reach was to prepare for the wedding ceremony, grandiose and worthy of the second most wealthy in the realm. Meanwhile, the Ramsay invited his darling down to the dungeons, where Myranda was tied up to a wooden X. “Myranda - I present to you Lady Y/N Tyrell, the most beautiful woman in the realm, and, coincidentally, my wife! Isn’t that fantastic?” Ramsay’s poisoned cheerfulness as he presented the woman as though the two never met made the flower chuckle. “Her lips are so sweet, she’s got me addicted.” he continued, pulling her into a tender kiss that only grew more desperate with each and every heartbroken protest from the kennel master’s daughter. “What is it, Myranda? You think Lady Y/N is beautiful? Well, you should see her body! You’ll lose your mind!” with one swift move, Ramsay unlaced and unburdened the Tyrell girl from her dress and pulled her up to sit on a desk, offering the perfect view to the tied up woman, as his hands roamed up and down Y/N’s soft flesh. “I know Myranda, I know - I’ve lost my mind too just seeing her... But when I’m side her and she cries out my name so sweetly... I can’t help but melt and feel like a slave before her.” he admitted, burying himself inside her wet core, his grip on her tightening harshly from how good she felt, but also, the desperate, broken and hopeless sobs from the jealous woman only fueled his animalistic desire for Y/N’s body. “There’s nothing better in this world then getting drunk on you, my sweet Queen of the Moon. I’ll never let go of you.”

After ripping at least two sweet thrills from the woman coming undone in his embrace, Y/N kissed him with so much fire that he was ready to perform more - Until he heard her whisper in his ear, enticing him for illicit activities. “Hey, Myranda - Are you ready for a hunt?”

#got #got x reader #got imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #ramsay bolton #ramsay bolton x reader #ramsay bolton imagine #ramsay snow #ramsay snow x reader #ramsay snow imagine #asmo time

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ramsayxme · 5 months

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The Servant and Her Dreams.

Ramsay slams his wine cup on the table. "MORE WINE, PLEASE!" He barks. His voice booming in the quiet room. You grudgingly bring the wine jug over to him. He is sitting in the large dining hall near the kitchen. You've been serving the Boltons for months and hated Ramsay the most. He sat proudly at the table, his wine cup empty in front of him. His clothes were all shades of dark, his knives concealed within them. Ramsay flayed people in front of you. You would never get their screams out of your head. As you pour from the jug, you feel his eyes studying your face. You don't even want to give him a glance.

"What a good and obedient girl. Keeping her mouth shut as she pours me my wine." He says quietly. Your eyes shift to his grin. You hear the wine fill the cup, and you stop pouring. "You can leave now." Ramsay motions towards the door. You nod and start walking towards the door. Before you've even taken 2 steps, your dress is caught. You turn around to see Ramsay reaching out, holding onto your clothes. "Leave the jug. I will want another cup later." You've mistakenly looked him in the eyes. Ramsay was like one of his hounds. A direct look in the eye was like a challenge to him.

You try to ignore his glare. "There you go, My Lord." You set the jug down on the table and start towards the door once again. He reaches out and smacks you on the ass. You try your best to ignore it. He can sometimes be touchy, but you are forced to deal with it. The room is so quiet that all you can hear is Ramsay slurping on the wine and the fire crackling in the corner. "Oh, and girl?" You turn around at his beckoning. He raises his glass in the air and smiles. "Thank you."

You always felt so weird when Ramsay was polite. It was almost scarier than when he was angry. Regardless, you curtsey. "Of course, My Lord." You were finally able to make it out of the room. As soon as your shoes hit the stones in the hall, Ramsay yells out. "And shut the door tight! I don't want anyone bothering me."

His voice. His face. His body. His hair. His expressions. You hated it all. Nothing about this man escaped the hatred you had. He was the human embodiment of nails on a chalkboard. Every time he spoke, a little piece of you died. You walk back to your chambers for the evening. It is dark, cold, and lonely. You crawl into bed and you can see your breath above your terrible excuse for a blanket. You somehow manage to fall asleep nestled between the mattress and the chill of the night.

***************************************

The sun rises early the next morning. You must rise early too, as you know Lord Bolton will be waiting for his morning bath. You bundle yourself with cloaks and make your way down to Ramsay's chambers. You knock gently on the door. "Lord Bolton, I am here to draw you a bath."

The door opens slightly. Ramsay is standing there, looking very sleepy. He stays in the doorway, blocking your way into his room. His voice is quiet and hoarse with the morning air, "Good morning. You've come to draw my bath?" You nod. His eyes look kind. You wait for him to step aside, allowing you access to his room. "And I can change your linens, My Lord." You smile.

"Good. Come in then. I don't bite." He grins and steps to the side, opening the door wider for you to enter. You step into his chambers and you hear him shut the door behind you. Then you hear him pull the wooden lever down, locking the door. You feel your eyes widen. He shouldn't lock the door. You were now in a locked room alone with Ramsay Bolton. You felt yourself get warm with anxiety, the lump forming in your throat.

You reach the wooden tub and begin filling it with water. You can feel his eyes on you, watching your every move. Usually, Ramsay is gathering breakfast or wine while you do this. He has never stayed in the room with you before. You nervously continue with your duties. You turn your back on him, unable to stand his gaze any longer. Unfortunately, you hear footsteps as soon as you turn around.

His hands make you jump as he lays his palms on your shoulders. He grips your shoulder bones and starts massaging. He rubs slow and sensually, his hands are very strong. You stop filling the bath, unsure of what to do. "You look nervous," Ramsay whispers, still behind you. His hands snake down to your elbows and back up to your shoulder blades. "What are you nervous about?"

You cower underneath his arms and free yourself from his massage, stepping to the side of the tub. "Nothing, My Lord. Sorry. I can't do my duties when you are touching me." He frowns at your escape. He reaches out, grabs your arms, and yanks you back to your position in front of him. He pushes you forward, your knees hitting the tin line across the bathtub. You grab the edge of the bath in order to keep yourself from falling in at the force of his push. You are bent over in front of him, and his hands leave your arms and grab your waist, sending a chill up your body.

He bends over with you, his chest pressing into your back. You feel him nuzzle into the hair on your back and feel him smell your hair. "Leave the bath alone. I have other things I need you to tend to." He growls in your ear. You close your eyes tightly as you feel him hike up your dress, pushing it over your hips. "Ramsay, please! I have t-" You can't complete your sentence before his hand clamps over your mouth. "Shh!" He hisses between his clenched teeth. His other hand fumbles on the laces of his trousers. He nudges your feet apart with his, and you feel his hand on your bare ass. You try to pull away but your fighting just makes Ramsay's grip on you tighter.

You feel his naked cock pressing on your inner thighs. Ramsay is kissing your shoulders and the back of your neck, pushing the hair out of the way with his nose. "You know you want this." He groans as he presses his cock inside you. You moan, surprised at how good it feels when he stretches you out. He starts pumping in and out of you immediately, you are easy for him. You are wet and slick already, even though you are ashamed of it. He growls as he fucks you. "I know you want me to do this to you."

Suddenly, your eyes spring open as you gasp. You're in your bed. The room is lit up with fresh sunlight. Oh, Gods, you were having a dream. You pull the blanket over your head, humiliated at what you were just thinking about. Unfortunately, this was not the first time. Even though you refused to admit it to yourself, you dreamt of Ramsay quite often. You had never had a dream as vivid as this one, though.

You lie in your bed for a few minutes, humiliated and feeling filthy. Did you really want Ramsay to touch you like that? Did you really want him to fuck you? It couldn't be true. You spread your legs under the covers and to your disappointment in yourself, your body was showing you that it did indeed crave Lord Bolton. You felt the wetness pooling between your thighs and you sighed.

You did, however, have a duty to do. You climbed out of bed and walked to Ramsay's chambers to fill his bath. You make your way down the hallway, feeling intense deja vu. You were so fed up with these dreams. You always felt so nervous around Ramsay after having one. He couldn't read your mind, obviously, but you always wondered if he could tell. You knock on his door.

"Who is it?" He calls out. You can hear him set down his ale. "It's me, My Lord. I am here to draw you a bath." You swallow your words, feeling all too familiar. Ramsay whips open his door, allowing you to enter. "Ah, the bath girl!" He exclaims. You don't even acknowledge him as you start prepping his tub. He disappeared into the hallway to fetch himself breakfast. You hit your knee on the metal band on the wood, and you gasp. You remember hitting your knee in the dream. You drop the water and the pail clangs on the floor. You stare at the tub, remembering how it felt to be bent over it.

'Gods, what am I thinking?!' You shake your head and pick up the pail. You feel your heartbeat through your body as you finish your chore. Ramsay walks back into the room, noticing the soaking floor and your soaked feet. He is still smacking his lips from the breakfast he just finished. "What is that?" He points to the floor, sucking his teeth of excess food. He raises his eyebrows at you when you don't answer right away. "Sorry, My Lord, I was just tired and it must have slipped out of my hands. I will get a rag."

"Did you sleep poorly?" Ramsay asked, causing you to freeze. Your eyes tracked him across the room as he took his shirt off and walked over to the tub in his trousers. You couldn't help but stare at his chest, pale and muscular. Did he know? There was no way.

"I asked you a question," Ramsay says a little louder than before, his eyebrows raised in concern as he walks towards his bath. You are on the opposite side of the tub as he approaches. You nod your head. "I'm fine, I just... had some weird dreams." You blush, turning away from him. He puts his hand in the water, checking the temperature. "This is cold." He stares at you as you touch the water. It feels like the winter air. "Oh, I am sorry..." You are wildly embarrassed.

Ramsay leans against the wall with his arms crossed across his bare chest as you empty the water with your pail and put some water over the fire blazing in the fireplace. "I wasn't thinking, My Lord. Forgive me." You mutter. Ramsay cocks his head to the side. You realize you hadn't made eye contact with him the entire morning. You peered up, meeting his eyes. He was staring deeply at you, which made you quickly look away.

You heard him chuckle. "Girl, what were these dreams about that made you so... clumsy this morning? I need the entertainment. Tell me while we wait for my proper bath." You immediately snap at him, "I don't want to talk about it, My Lord." Ramsay was not happy with this answer, but you tried to ignore it. You felt irritated, almost as if he was taunting you. There was no way he knew, but it still felt like teasing.

Ramsay walks forward and away from the wall. He stands behind you as you empty the tub. You are extremely paranoid when you feel his presence behind your body. With a swift motion, you walk away from him just as he goes to reach out to you. He is quicker than you. He grabs your shoulder, and you jump. "Don't touch me, Ramsay!" The sheer volume of your yell startles you and you look at him for your punishment for talking back.

He is chuckling as he watches you cower. He reaches back out and pinches your arms as he grabs you. "Have you forgotten who you belong to? You will not raise your voice at me!" His voice is low and demanding, his lips curling around his teeth as his eyes dart from your lips to your eyes. You drop the bucket on the floor, sending cold water dumping on Ramsay's legs. "I said I don't want to talk about it!" You yell, and before Ramsay can do anything, you are out the door. You sprint down the hall, hearing him shouting from his chambers.

You are chased down by three men who serve the Dreadfort. You are locked in your servant chambers until further notice. You hear Ramsay tell one of the men, "Lock her there until I decide what to do with her. She needs to speak to me when she can, and then I will decide her fate." You feel guilty, almost apologetic for what you did to Ramsay.

2 days pass. You have been sleeping and pacing around in your chambers. Every time you sleep, you dream of Ramsay fucking you. You feel restless. You feel beat down. You feel tired. You can't take it any longer. You haven't had anything warm in 2 days and you could feel your bones chilling. To sit by the fire would feel like heaven.

You decide that you are giving in. You are allowing Ramsay to win. As much as you don't want to do this, you know that it is possibly the only way you can survive. You knock on your own chamber door and one of the guards who was in charge of making sure you didn't escape barked at you. "What!"

"I am ready to speak to Lord Ramsay." You reply, your voice shaking. He opens the door and doesn't look at you. "Follow me." You realize that all the torches are lit, it must be late at night. Time wasn't really a thing when you were locked away for so many hours. You follow the guard in silence for what felt like an eternity. You reached Ramsay's door, and the guard knocked. "Come in!" Ramsay barked.

The guard pushed open the door and threw you inside, and you fell down immediately. Your body hit the cold stone floor on your hands and knees, and you quickly stood up and brushed yourself off. Ramsay grinned seeing you and motioned with his hand for the guard to leave. The guard left into the night, shutting the door. You looked around the room. The fire was crackling and Ramsay had a pelt over him on the bed. He had an ale on his table and candles lit all over the room.

"You caught me before I went to sleep. I see you're ready to talk to me, perhaps explain your behavior." He said as he sat up in bed. You looked at him from across the room. The room was definitely warmer than yours, and you breathed in the warmth. Your body thawed and your bones remembered how to move without creaking. The fire was roaring. Ramsay was shirtless in bed, his shoulders and biceps being illuminated by all the flickering fire.

You stare at your feet. "My Lord. I am so sorry. I've not been feeling myself recently. I have to tell you th-" "Speak up." Ramsay interrupts. You sigh and step closer to the bedside. You look at him. He is patiently waiting to hear your explanation. Gods, he looks so good right now. So handsome and toned. His hair was so dark and the way it flopped over his forehead was-

"So! Explain yourself." He blurted into your thoughts. You cautiously reach out to the bed and begin to climb on the pelt. Ramsay just watches as you crawl up by his feet. "Girl, what are you doing?"

You exhale loudly as you muster up the courage to finally tell Ramsay the truth. "My Lord...Ramsay...I will be honest with you. I hate being your servant. I hate it! I hate catering to your every need, I hate waiting on you. I never liked you," You pause. He looks furious, his teeth grinding together and his lips tightly closed. "The reason I haven't been feeling myself... It is because of those dreams I told you about the other day. Some of them...All of them... Are about you."

Ramsay's jaw has softened as he registers what you are saying. He listens attentively. "Go on. Tell me about these dreams." You shrug and shift your weight on the bed. "I don't know, My Lord. I don't know where they come from. They keep me up at night and they keep me from being awake during the day. They're very vivid, My Lord. I don't mean to be disrespectful... but I do have to ask you something."

You are clearly uncomfortable and nervous, Ramsay's unwavering gaze isn't helping. "I feel there is only one way to possibly get rid of these dreams." You say, scooching closer to him on the bed. Ramsay leans forward with a grin on his face. "What would that be?" Your eyes fill with tears from humiliation. "I'm just wondering if perhaps you would consider... allowing me to experience these things in real life, that way my mind can slow down at night?"

Ramsay tilts his head to the side, making an exaggerated-looking thinking face. "Let me think. Are you asking if I, the Lord of the Dreadfort and Warden of the North, would sleep with you, my lowly servant girl?" You hang your head in shame. "I suppose I am."

Ramsay chuckles and leans forward, grabbing your arms. "I don't know... Let's say I do fuck you, right here!" He points to himself on the bed. You feel yourself get a wave of butterflies. "You really think that would cure you of these dreams? What if they get worse?" You shake your head. "I don't know, but I have to try."

Ramsay smiled as he pulled you into his lap, you fell forward and were laying on top of him. He grabbed your face in his hands and grinned. He pulled your face close to his and your heart flew into your throat as he pressed his lips onto yours. "I guess we will have to see what happens."

Part 2

#game of thrones #ramsay bolton #ramsay bolton x reader #ramsaybolton #ramsayboltonsmut #got #smut #18+ only #ramsay snow #game of thrones smut #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones imagine

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popcorn1989 · 1 year

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𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔩𝔣 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔟

Note: I have no idea what I was doing here. :D Maybe I'll write a second part, I'm undecided. Let me know what you think of it :)

Words: about 5447

Pairing: TLK x F!Reader x Ramsay

Summary: You are a warrior, you forgot how you ended up with Lord Uhtred, suddenly he was there and you followed him. However, your task was not only to fight, but also to heal wounds, listen to people, deliver messages and much more. You were an important part of the small group of Uhtred and you were there to protect the King of Cumberland.

"They attacked in the night, lured him to the stable. I wonder how he could fall for that" You were on your way again, the king's monks on horseback in front of you and at the very head of the crowd Uhtred and King Guthred.

"It was definitely a mistake on his part. I told you as soon as those men came that they weren't there to protect the king, was I?" You looked at Ramsay and nodded, he was a specialist in one thing, he recognized dangers when they were right in front of him. That day, you asked him to speak to Uhtred, but the two were not on good terms.

- I don't serve him - he had said and never left you alone from the day the men came. When you told Uhtred, Ramsay's concern, all he said was - We need every man - and then the subject was closed. You looked at Ramsay, who had fallen silent and was looking at his horse's ears.

"Tell me," you said in a calm voice, although you were excited and eager to find out what had happened, because that evening you were with Gisela, who had gathered a small circle of women around her and was exploring the city. You weren't really keen on that, but escorted her so that nothing happened to her.

"My Lady?" asked Ramsay, who was riding next to you. "I want to know how you got there and what happened and why he's there?" you asked and turned around briefly, Ramsay did the same and let out a derisive sigh.

Beside a cart was a prisoner, he looked exhausted, but he kept pace with the carts and never let a word escape his lips. You briefly remember Ramsay, who was once just as tied up and complained to you loudly. "Him? Such a bad decision as well" he turned back, before you turn, the prisoner looked up, your eyes meeting for a second.

"And?" you urge him to keep talking. "I just wanted something to drink when I saw Uhtred walking away alone. I asked his friends and this nun what happened, but no one knew what. You know me..." he said and briefly raised his Eyebrows.

"I just told them everything I was thinking, and at some point they probably felt it would be better if we checked. I killed two men that night and when I was about to kill that one" he pointed over his shoulder, "Uhtred yelled that we should let one live, and he chose him" he shook his head.

"So you did what he said?" you asked curiously, but Ramsay made a face, "I wanted to kill him anyway, but that guy there... wouldn't let me" he pointed to where Uhtred's friend was riding, and you started to grin. "What's his name?" you asked, looking back at the prisoner, his eyes on you as if he had been watching you the whole time. Ramsay shrugged. "I don't know, I don't care either"

---

In the evening you had reached another village, the residents were not willing to share their houses with everyone, so only the appointed king and his sister, as well as all the priests, nuns got a place in a house. So many tents were set up, a large one where Uhtred and the king conferred, yours smaller, but enough space for bed and table, was not far from the large one, the marketplace was soon full of small and large tents.

On the city wall in front of your tent, not far away, sat the prisoner by the wall. His hands already white because the rope was tied so tightly around his hands and he was tied to a ring on the wall that horses were normally tied to. Dirt and horse droppings all around him.

You still hadn't heard him speak, but Ramsay told you that he kept asking about Uhtred and wanted to speak to him. From your entrance to the tent you got a good look at him and watch him for a while, he just sat there with his hands tied at his crotch, he didn't speak, he didn't move, but he made himself small as one of the guards of the king, or rather of the monks and priests, came close to insult or kick him again.

But he didn't complain. Amazing, you thought, as you thought of Ramsay, who kept giving Uhtred's guard reason to kick him, hurling insults and threatening the dead to those who looked at him.

"My Lady" came from Ramsay, standing in front of you as if by magic. "Uhtred wants to talk to you" he said, and you looked at him in surprise. Uhtred avoided speaking to Ramsay. The day he offered you his sword, it was said that you and you alone are responsible for him.

Since that day the monks hated you, they wanted Ramsay's head for the many insults to their god, the spitting on dead monks and the contempt he showed them. Fear flooded you that day because you knew Ramsay was capable of anything, but he made it easy for you and you had no idea why he was so loyal to you. "What does he want?" you ask quietly, looking back at the prisoner.

"I don't know, maybe a round of cuddles?" You roll your eyes at Ramsay's smirk, then he appraised what you've been staring at "Do you want me to kill him?" he just asked coldly, "No" - "But then he and I will be through with it", You sigh.

"You're not doing anything, that's an order" he looked at you in shock, it was an act, you could see it so clearly, like a man pretending to pray, but he was there because of the nuns to charm them. "Nothing? Nothing at all?" he put a hand on his chest and exhaled indignantly, "Okay... find out who that bastard is" He looked at his target and nodded.

You left him alone and set off, passing the prisoners along the way. You decided to walk closer than was actually necessary. The prisoner's eyes rested on you from afar. The man sitting on a stool and charged with keeping an eye on him got up and stood in your way. "What do you want?" he asked derisively. It was wide and tall, it reminded you of a closet.

Stepping sideways, you let your eyes roam over the prisoner, he was thin, pale, his lips dry and cracked leading you to believe he wasn't getting water, his eyes were asking you something, but you couldn't make out what. Your eyes caught all of this before your vision was obscured by the broad man. "Move on, girl. Nothing for you to see here." You let out a disdainful exhalation.

"You should feed your prisoner" - "Why should I, he's only here for one reason, and that's to die as soon as possible" your eyebrows rose, and you shake your head as you set off, "My Lady ?" came a soft voice, you turn around and saw the man hitting the prisoner "Shut up" came the man loud and angry. It was time to talk to Uhtred.

---

You found Uhtred in the big tent, with the king and his priests. "Lord" it came from you loudly and firmly, because everyone was talking excitedly and only willingly they stopped and looked at you. You had to hold back your laughter every time you saw the face of Abbot Eadred who hated you for saving Ramsay.

"You wanted to talk to me, Lord," you say, and see Uhtred nod. "Wait outside I'll be right there" Now you nodded and did what he said. But as it had already entered your head when you heard this sentence, it lasted a long time, and you wished for nothing more than your thick, soft blankets and rest, it was getting darker and darker and so it was also getting cooler.

You rubbed your hands together and heard the angry voices in the tent. But you didn't want to disturb them again, so you just hoped for a speedy redemption. You looked across the marketplace and saw Ramsay standing by the prisoners, but it was too far away to see his face or hear what the rascal was doing. The big man was arguing with his arms and head and the prisoner looked from one to the other, it seemed like he was grinning, but you weren't sure.

And then what you had imagined happened, Ramsay was pushed, didn't put up with it and soon a scuffle ensued. You close your eyes and squeeze them tighter, but when you open them again, Ramsay was almost by you.

His lip was bleeding, and he wiped it with his glove. How could it be over so quickly, you missed it, and you raised your hands questioningly, but he just started laughing. "That guy there is Leoandrik, Leo in short, is tall but has no ego, I just had to experience it myself" he laughed again and looked around at the tall man, who kicked the poor prisoner.

"He's a real asshole, the guy didn't do anything, he didn't even flinch, if I were him, I would have cheered" Now you're grinning, that was typical Ramsay. "My lady, you gave the order, I carried out, shall I kill him?" - "No, not necessary" you say, when Uhtred finally left the tent, Ramsay just nodded and left without another word.

"Keep an eye on him" came from Uhtred, who watched after him, "What should I do? Tie him to my leg, so he can't go anywhere alone?" Uhtred's eyes wandered to your "if need be"

You were about to say it wasn't necessary, but the words stuck in your throat as the king and priest walked past you. "We'll talk about it tomorrow," said the king, who grabbed Uhtred's shoulder and shook him before walking on. You didn't like them at all, but they hate you more. Uhtred waited as if he didn't want anyone to hear anything, only then did he speak.

"They want to kill the prisoner, probably because he's a Dane, or just because he's breathing, I think it's fear they have." You nod, they wanted to kill Ramsay as well, but maybe they were justified, you thought about who Ramsay would kill if you wanted to. "I want you to talk to him" - "With the priests?" you ask, surprised and about to say no immediately, but Uhtred shook his head "With the prisoner, find out who he is, where he really comes from, what his intentions are, everything" he paused

"And what he wants from me. I hear, all the time, his pleas, that he wants to talk to me." You liked that, it was exciting to find out something like that and somehow, you liked that you had something to do. "What about the guard?" you ask curiously, not knowing how to do it with that big man around him. "Tell him you have orders to take care of him. Have Ramsay stand by and scowl, or play with knives" you gave him a puzzled look.

Then he grinned, "It's my prisoner, say the order is from me, no one will forbid it" You nod, that was your task, questioning another prisoner, but it seemed easier to you, because this man wasn't like Ramsay, it was a difference between day and night. "What if the king objects?" you ask cautiously. "Let that be my concern, I'll talk to him, he has no opinion of his own, He's like a sheep that you push back and forth, unable to fight back"

Sheep? That was what you were looking for, the difference between the two, one the wolf, the other a sheep. You didn't think the prisoner was a wolf, he looked too shy for that. "What do you think?" you asked now and got a questioning expression from Uhtred, "Do you think he's dangerous?"

It took a while, then he shook his head, "That's why I chose him, he seems like someone who's lost. He wasn't like the others, I saw how they treated him, and he wasn't as eager to attack me as the others were about it." He put a hand on your shoulder, "I know you can recognize a good man," he said, wishing you good night.

You weren't so sure about that, Ramsay was still alive, and only because he gave you his sword for his life, but so far you haven't regretted it.

---

The next day, with your orders from Uhtred, you decide to start. But first you look for Ramsay, one of the monks said letters had arrived.

And you hoped that you would get messages, mostly he took the letters. You were not a famous woman, nor very rich, but you had a small farm that you loved and where your family live.

You found him in the tavern holding an open parchment.

"Ramsay" you nod as he looks up "My lady, not great news, your homestead is still standing, people are trying to bring in income. But…" He looked at the letter again, "Church members are gathering and asking if you ever return home"

It was typical of them that when they saw some land to get rich on, they took the slightest impulse to grab it. But you didn't worry too much because your brother was in charge when you weren't there. She would hope in vain to get the land.

"Always the same with those bastards," you said softly, because many of the priests had gathered here in the morning. Again you nodded and wanted to leave, "What are you doing now, my lady?" asked Ramsay, who had stood up and was putting the letter in his pocket. "Take care of the prisoner".

This time it was Ramsay who nodded, "Maybe you should think about doing it quickly" he had only been here to annoy the priest with his presence. But he didn't follow, he grinned cheekily and sat down again. You get some herbs from the village healer and give her a piece of silver in return.

In your tent you found the other materials you need, bowl, cloths, a tincture for small wounds. What else did you need? "This prisoner shall not be your concern" you recognized that he was a monk by the raised voice and this touch of politeness, you didn't even have to turn around for that.

"Uhtred gave me the order and I will carry it out. Besides, it's his prisoner, you only made it your mission to watch over him." The man groaned, and you turned around abruptly, the dagger in his hands falling to the ground, blood poured from his open mouth as he fell to the ground. And Ramsay appeared behind him, a bloody knife in his hand.

"I knew it, but...." he wiped his weapon clean on the monk's cloak. You looked at the dead man's wide open eyes in shock. "Ramsay!" - "Don't worry, I'll take care of you, I've been keeping an eye on the weasel the whole time. I knew that he was up to something when he followed you out of the traverse to the healer, by the way he already drew his dagger there, but thought better of it. Until here..."

You couldn't believe it, you knew that the priests and monks hated you as well as the king's apt, but that? But the only thing you could say was "You killed him, that'll never be…they'll figure it out" He smiled evilly and shook his head "Let me do it" He tapped his temple "I've got a plan. And besides... he's not a priest, he's a Dane they hired."

Suddenly you knew that Ramsay was to be taken with a grain of salt, not only was he cunning he had eyes and ears everywhere, but he probably saved your life. "Ah, Ah, don't say anything and as for the prisoner, you should tell Uhtred to kill him immediately." You narrow your eyes and shake your head.

You had no idea why he wanted to get rid of the prisoner so quickly, but he didn't seem to think about it for a minute, since he was himself standing in his place.

He clearly didn't look happy with your answer, but nodded that he understood. You walked towards him "I can't protect you if this gets out" you spoke softly, and again he nodded "It won't get out" he was so sure of it that you just said "Get him away"

---

On the way to the prisoner, who again looked at you from afar with his big round eyes. It sent shivers down your spine, knowing you couldn't tell Uhtred about what had happened.

The priests tried to kill you, every step you took was watched by them, you didn't know why this country was full of them, no matter where you went, you met monks and priests and behind each of them you had to look for dangers eighth, they were the real danger of this country, not the Danes.

You sigh as the big man named Leo stood up and stood in front of you menacingly. "I have orders to take care of the prisoner, the order comes from Uhtred" you said and saw the prisoner rocking back and forth excitedly. "And I have orders to watch over him and let no one near him, orders of the king"

Rather the monks, you thought briefly, and wanted to pass him, but he pushed you back with one hand. "Leave her alone" said the tied man and lay hard on the ropes. Leo looked at him menacingly.

"Hurt him, and I'll notify Lord Uhtred, and he'll tell the king. And he listens to him, so let me do my job, I don't want to sit here in horse shit and talk to an unimportant man either."

Your words were so harsh that Leo took a step away from you, you were amazed that your words had such an impact, but Leo looked past you and you turned around. The Apt stood behind you "Nice to see you so… alive" he said sneakily, you could hear that he was angry about the failed ambush.

He didn't hide it, it annoyed you, but you didn't show it. "I have…." - "I know, let her do her work…" he said angrily to Leo "And make sure she doesn't do anything stupid", those were his last words before he gave you another glared and disappeared.

Leo had bowed like the apt would be a king, but he left you alone. You went to the prisoner, and he looked at you expectantly, but you had to disappoint him. You took his chin in your hand and examined his chapped lips. "Are you thirsty?" you asked, and he nodded.

"Hungry?" you ask when Leo intervened "He doesn't get anything, he's doomed to die anyway, the negotiations will show today" You roll your eyes "I don't care, he's human and only that, I see" - "This is a waste of resources", said Leo, "Then he gets mine" the prisoner smiled at you.

"Then you are stupid" was all that came from the big man. You looked at his hands, which were very pale, you stroked his fingers "Do you notice that" - "No, my lady" You put your bag down next to him and crouched down, with both hands you tried to loosen the ropes a bit, but they were tied tight.

"Make them a little looser" you asked Leo, but he just snorted contemptuously. You looked around to see if you saw anyone as Ramsay walked up the path, a satisfied expression on his face, he came as soon as you called his name, "You know about those knots?"

"What are you doing there?" Leo asked and grabbed your hand when Ramsay pulled on one of the ropes. The prisoner moved his hands and fingers to pump blood into them. "You should let her go, big man," Ramsay said, looking at Leo.

"I'll report that," he said when he released you. "Fine, if you're already on your way, then you should stay there." Ramsay didn't look at Leo but at Sihtric, who returned his gaze, and both had a fixed expression on their faces.

"I'm not going anywhere" Leo said and now Ramsay grinned and got up to look the man in the face. "And how do you want to report? If someone comes here, you will have forgotten everything again, your brain is not the best I heard."

Leo went into attack position, and before it escalated you had an idea, "Ramsay, get something to eat. And something to drink… lots" Ramsay looked from you to the man sitting next to you and hadn't taken his eyes off him. But he nodded.

He grinned invitingly at Leo again before walking past you and stopping, "Wine, ale or water?" - "Water" you said, drowning out the ale from the prisoner, who then looked at you and smiled. "Not that I don't begrudge you that, but I'm sure you haven't had a drink for a long time"

"Nothing since my imprisonment" Startled, you looked at Leo, who shrugged his shoulders. "Five days, I've seen men who lasted longer, and I offered him something" he pointed to a bucket and grinned. "Pee is not what a body needs to survive," you said sourly.

---

You took care of the prisoner without a word. You didn't want him to think you were spying on him. His wounds weren't bad, a cut on his arm probably from Ramsay's dagger, a cut in his lip from the dryness. Some bruises.

Ramsay came with a large piece of fresh bread and a jug of water. Leo was causing trouble and snatching the bread from his hand, Leo and Ramsay had a scuffle, but Ramsay won and Leo was asked by one of the monks to come along. To your surprise, Ramsay followed them, but you didn't stop him.

Now you sat here, watching how the prisoner greedily drank down two cups that you put in his hands. "What's your name" - "Sihtric, My Lady" You're just trying to chat, most of the prisoners were ready to talk because they could finally talk to someone.

"Where are you from?" Your fingers ran over the large scar on his forehead and he stopped eating. "Dunholm" he looked you in the eyes, "I am the bastard of Kjartan. He gave me this scar" You nod, you know that many bastards get this scar so that one recognizes them. That was the custom of the Danes.

You got up and took the stool Leo used to sit on and placed it in front of Sihtric, slowly you sat down. "He…" he wanted to say something, but he just shakes his head. "Would you like something else?" you asked, nodding towards the jug. "Why are you so nice to me?" you raised an eyebrow, questioningly.

"No one was ever nice to me" You thought briefly about his words. Uhtred told you that he saw how the men treated him. "Your mother must be nice to you" he wanted to bite off the bread but let it sink "She died" - "I'm sorry, how? ", you asked cautiously, "Kjartan killed her when I was a boy, she was a slave" You noticed that he never - my father - said. "I can hardly remember her"

You nod, "It's okay to be sad" - "Yes, but I've learned to deal with it and not to show it" he looked at you seriously now and for a moment you thought back to Ramsay, talking to him was different, you didn't have that feeling protective of him, but Sihtric? You pondered Uhtred's words like a lamb. Sihtric was like a lamb.

He seemed nice, soft, and probably had a shitty life up until now, and now he's about to die. "Kjartan ordered you to join us with the men?" you asked now, He's probably figured out by now that you're not here to chat with him.

"I'll tell you anything you want, my lady. But promise me you'll ask Uhtred if he talks to me" - "Why does he want Uhtred dead? Why does he send you and not come himself" he laughed

"This army here is bigger than his, he's scared. He sent me because he can do without me. Maybe he's heard that I'm still alive and is sending someone to kill me. He wants Uhtred because he's stands in his way, he fears him. Him and his vengeance, and I have no pity on Kjartan"

You nod, "Please talk to him. Tell him I never wanted that attack. I didn't mean to kill him, kept my head down and was just fighting for my life. I want to serve him!"

His voice grew stronger with every word, after such a long silence it took a while for his voice to regain its normal strength. "My Lady?" he asked after a long silence, letting you think, but it seemed like he didn't want to wait any longer. "I'll try" you promised and got up. "My Lady!"

You turned to him. "Don't trust him," he said, his eyes narrowing. "Whom?" - "Ramsay" You looked at him thoughtfully, then he continued eating his bread. He wouldn't say anything more in response, not even when you asked what he knew about him. Not a word passed his lips.

---

It took you three days to continue on your way, you had been looking after Sihtric for those three days, because Leo had disappeared without a trace. And the monks wanted to uncover his disappearance. You talked to Sihtric and the two of you soon got on well together.

"Sven is your brother?" - "Yes, but he and I never got on well" - "Why did you stay there?" - "I only had them, a man who serves no one is a lost man" your conversations went on into the night for you decided to bring him to your tent, there he sat on furs and talked about himself.

You spoke to Uhtred every time you knew something new, but still he wouldn't talk to him "There's time, I've managed to convince the king to take him with us until I know what to do with him" you nod "What do you think? Is he a sincere man?" you nod again. You let Sihtric know that he wasn't going to die anytime soon, and he seemed relieved about that.

Leo was found on the second day. He was lying in a ditch outside the village, covered in cuts. There were no clues as to who had done this to him, however, after another day Uhtred decided that it must have been robbers. You, on the other hand, could not shake the feeling that Ramsay must have had something to do with it. He denied it, but his broad grin made him seem incredulous.

Nobody asked about the assassin who wanted to kill you, and you decided not to ask Ramsay where he had left the body. You gave him orders like, watch the apt or find out what happened next, only for him not to be with Sihtric, the two of them always just looking at each other for a long time, as if one would attack the other immediately.

"Do you know Sihtric?" - "No My Lady, but he seems weak to me, he should not stay alive" - "That is not your decision. And you are alive too, was that perhaps a wrong decision?" you asked Ramsay one evening. "That's your decision," he said.

"We'll rest here," said Uhtred, pulling you out of your thoughts. He had told his friend Halig to look after Sihtric. Hild and you were gathering wood to make a campfire for the men. The king had sent some men out to hunt. The food always ran out so quickly, it always amazed you.

"I'll take this to the camp," she said, leaving you alone. "Can I help?" asked a familiar voice. "Of course Ramsay, take this to camp" you said, throwing the branches into his arms. "I get the feeling you're avoiding me, or don't want me to be with you".

"That's nonsense, it's just that the days have been very busy and each of us has had things to do" you said, lying of course, but what could you have said? I trust Sihtric, and he told me not to trust you? You didn't know why, but his words carried a lot of weight with you.

"Is there anything else I can do?" he asked as you placed more branches on his arms, you shook your head. He was about to turn around when there was a flurry of activity in the camp, and he looked at you questioningly. "Come with me," you said to him, and he dropped the wood and ran after you.

The crowd stood together, and you pressed forward, so you could see what was happening. Ramsay laughed as you both realized what was going on. Sihtric stood in front of the crowd, a sword to Halig's neck, he looked at you uncertainly as he spotted you in the crowd.

Uhtred just asked his name and Sihtric, said everything he had said to you. "He will die," Ramsay said when he saw the angry monks. There was a mess, the priests were for Sihtric's head, but Uhtred was against it. For Sihtric spoke the words you had heard from Ramsay. "My sword for my life"

He looked from Uhtred to you and was about to say something, but you just shook your head and he lowered his eyes. Uhtred asked him to drop the sword. You saw Sihtric hesitate, but he did. Tensely, you watched Uhtred and the priests, who began to grumble loudly as Uhtred welcomed Sihtric. You exhale in relief, but hear an indignant groan from Ramsay.

Halig picked up the sword angrily and asked "Do you have to shit or not?" he only got a grin from Sihtric and angrily he made off. Your eyes met, and you nodded to each other, now he was a free man serving a lord. His fortunes had turned.

---

In the evening, you sat with Ramsay in your tent. "Bad decision," he muttered, "So far, Uhtred has done everything right, not everything, but a lot," you said, when Sihtric came into the tent, he nodded, "Ramsay" - "Sihtric" he just replied "I'll get something to eat" he said and left without looking at you, he rammed Sihtric with his shoulder. But he just grinned as his gaze wandered to you.

"So, you are now one of Uhtred's men" he nodded proudly, "Why? I mean, why did you want that so badly?" you asked, because you hadn't heard everything, many of the priests were standing around you, and they were so loud, that you hadn't noticed much.

"I don't belong to Kjartan and never will be. I want to serve a real lord, someone who is strong and wise," he explained to you, and you smile at his words. "But for a moment I thought… I was going to die"

"I thought so too" he swallows at your words. "You know he's going to kill Kjartan?" he nodded, "And I will help him no matter what" - "You can do it just like that?" again he nodded. "I'm glad you're with us" honest words on your part. He smiled. "I wanted to say thank you"

You looked at him questioningly, "Why?" - "You saved my life. Without you, I would have died of thirst. You spoke to me even though I was a prisoner. You…." he stopped and looked down "You made me feel like a human being" puzzled, you look at Sihtric "But you are"

He said nothing to it "I will protect you, I am one of Uhtred's men, I will carry out his orders, but I will also protect you. You… you mean something to me" You didn't know what to say to that, but you smile at your opposite.

"Ramsay isn't what he says he is" Abruptly, your smile left you. "And I will kill him if I have even the slightest suspicion that he wants to hurt you." He was so serious that you believed every word he said.

"I swear" were his last words, he bowed to you and left the tent. Men swore to give weight to their words, to make what was spoken true. Again, you thought of the lamb and the wolf and ...

the question was, can a lamb kill a wolf?

#sihtric the last kingdom #the last kingdom fandom #uhtred imagine #the last kingdom imagine #ramsay snow

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