The Wolf and the Bastard - A Ramsay Bolton Fanfiction

Ice

"Lady Sansa", Ramsay Bolton greeted her politely while he bend down to place a light kiss on the back of her hand.
I saw her flinch slightly but she didn't pull away. Her eyes flickered over to me. She did his best to hide her nervousness but she failed miserably. I didn't know if she was tense because of what I had told her earlier or if it was just his presence.
Ramsay Bolton was indeed an intimidating person. It was less his appearance than his demeanour. With his black and slightly curled hair and this childish smile on his lips he looked like he couldn't harm anyone. He wasn't that broad either even if you could guess a well trained body under his thick coat. A normal man - or woman - might think he wasn't a threat at all. But I wasn't a normal woman. He couldn't fool me. Because when his ice blue eyes met mine I knew that everything I had heard must have been true. I only hoped my thoughts weren't plastered on my face. His smile turned up into a wide grin when he came over to me.
"Lady Yara."
"Mylord", I replied shortly.
When he touched my hand I felt an icy shiver rushing through my body. The spot where his lips got in contact with my skin tingled slightly. I did my best not to pull away my hand but from other reasons than Sansa before. It confused me how my body responded to his touch. I had to admit it didn't feel uncomfortable at all. I realized I had stared into his eyes the whole time. I glanced over to Sansa who observed us with a frowned forehead.
"Welcome to Winterfell", Roose Boltons proclaimed. "You must be tired from the long journey. The servants will show you your chambers where you can refresh yourself."
When I turned around to follow Sansa and Baelish I felt Ramsays stare on my back. I ignored it and let my eyes wander around the inner courtyard instead. There seemed to be guards everywhere. Every single one had a grim look on their faces. The whole place was strangely quiet. Winterfell always had been my home but now it didn't feel like one anymore. Even in the winter seasons it had been filled with laughter and joy. But yet all I could feel was cold and bleakness.
The servants led me to a room which once had been Robbs. Nothing reminded of him anymore though. Every personal belonging had been removed. I let myself down on the bed and straightened my back. We had been on horse way too long. I lay down on the furs and closed my eyes for a moment. I almost fell asleep but then a knock on the door let me open my eyes again. Several young woman came inside and placed a wash bowl and towels on the table. Dresses in different colours were draped next to me on the bed.
"Lord Bolton requests your presence at dinner", one of the servants told me.
"Thank you", I replied politely.
The servants left after they bowed their heads. One of them stayed though. She was a young little girl who couldn't be older than eight years. I wasn't able to inspect her face properly because her brown hair covered the most of it. She fidgeted nervously with her fingers.
"I assume you are here to help me?", I asked her with a warm smile on my lips.
She nodded silently but was still too afraid to look up.
"To be honest I am not very comfortable with receiving help from servants ...", I started.
Her head shot up.
"But I won't send you away."
I knew if I did she would be punished. She had received her orders and it wouldn't matter if I would have refused her help or if she hadn't wanted to assist me. So I decided to let her stay. But I still washed myself alone. To ease the tense silence I started a conversation.
"What's your name?"
"Ginny, mylady."
My fingers brushed over the fabric of one of the dresses. All of them had dark colours, most of them black, a few brown or grey and one was dark green. I didn't recognize a single one of them. I tried to remember if I had seen them on Sansa when we had lived in Winterfell but I couldn't tell. All I could say was that they definitely weren't mine. I hadn't possessed a lot of dresses because I never had been fond of them. But I was aware that some occasions require to wear one even if I found them uncomfortable and impractical.
"Which one would please Lord Bolton the most?", I muttered.
"Do you mean the father or the son?"
I turned around to Ginny in surprise. I hadn't intended to say that out loud.
"Both, I guess", I answered.
"It is not my place to make a decision but I would pick one of the black dresses. Lord Bolton loves black ... and so does his son."
I smiled absently while I put the other colours aside. A long dark dress caught my eye. It had a slim waistline and was studded with lace over and over. I let Ginny help me put it on. She had her difficulties to tie the cords in front if my chest properly. But I didn't say anything and waited patiently instead. After she finished I rounded off my outfit with black gloves which almost covered my whole arms. Ginny insisted to do my hair so I sat down on the chair and let her braid my black strands.
"Does Lord Bolton treat you properly?", I asked her then.
Her movements stopped. She glared at my refection in the mirror with terror.
"Of course he does", she claimed.
She was obviously lying. But I didn't expect her to be honest. I got my answer anyway. The look in her eyes had been enough for me. A servant shouldn't be afraid of their masters. But she clearly had been terrified only by my question. It had been dangerous to come here all along.
"There is no need to be afraid. I won't tell anyone", I reassured her.
"Thank you, mylady", she replied quietly and continued with her work.