Game of Thrones - One Shots/Imagines (Completed)

Ramsay Bolton X Reader - Bastard's Bestfriend (Requested)

You were only young the first time you met Ramsay Snow, both of you only 4 years old. He was a cute little thing with chubby cheeks and thick curly locks of light brown hair framing his face. You, as the daughter of a powerful northern house, had forced the young boy to play with you, telling him that he would love playing Knights and Princesses with you and giving him a long wooden stick as a sword, a book as a shield and a clean chamberpot as a helmet. You dressed up in one of your mother's dresses, which was far too big and pooled around you in a pile of fabric, and told him he had to protect you from the baddies. When you had later been found by your parents, rolling around on the floor with laughter after he had run into the door frame due to his hindered vision from his 'helmet', you had both been scolded and sent to bed with no dinner, despite you protesting that it wasn't Ramsay's fault. 

The rest of the visit, you were kept apart by your parents. You had heard them saying that you shouldn't be spending time with bastards, that you would get the wrong idea about his type of people, though you didn't know what it meant at the time. When it came time to go, you gave Ramsay a tight hug before being dragged away by your mother, who ushered you into the carriage and slammed the door behind her. When you had attempted to question her, she told you it was bad for appearances for you to be hugging 'the boy' and told you not to talk back when you insisted that he was your friend.

The next time you came across one another was when you were slightly older, you were 7 and he had just turned 8, and though you were forced to stay away from him by both your mother and your septa, you found ways around it. You had grown to be a mischievous girl, and snuck out of dinner early to go and find him in the stables of the Dreadfort, laughing as you helped him with his archery or grooming his horse. One evening, when his father had found you with him he had scolded Ramsay and told you that your mother would be angry if she had found you, sending you back to the dining hall to sit with your younger sister. You had only seen Ramsay once more that trip, his eye was black and bruised, it looked painful and you wanted to ask where he had got it but remembered how much trouble you would have been in if you had acted on your whim. When you were leaving you slipped a note into his hand, telling him that you were sorry about how your family had treated him and that your evenings out in the stables had been the highlight of the trip, asking him to write you when he got the time. You remember being sorely disappointed when no letter ever came, wondering if you had lost your friend in Ramsay Snow, and what you could have done to upset him so greatly that he had refused to respond to your note.

After that, it had been years since you had seen Ramsay, you had just turned 17, and your parents were looking for Lords who had sons they could marry you to. Of course, you had heard that Ramsay's father had legitimised him, that he had officially become a Bolton rather than a Snow, but you had pushed the thought from your head, hoping you would not have to see him after how embarrassed you had been since he had ignored your letter. Your parents hadn't told you where you were going when they had hurried you into the carriage with your Mother and Sister, your Father opting to ride alongside it, and as much as you asked they had refused to tell you. Whenever they had asked if you would like to go to the Dreadfort you had argued against them, telling them to leave you with your Septa in your own home, and they had. But this time when you drew up to the front of the large fort you had grown angry.

"I told you I didn't want to come here anymore," you growled at your mother, who simply rolled her eyes and patted your hand where it rested in a fist on your lap. Your sister sighed as you slumped into your chair, hoping that if you didn't get noticed you could just turn the carriage around and go home. "Please Mother, I don't want to see them," you begged as you tugged on her hand, feeling the carriage come to a halt.

"Don't be ridiculous Y/N. You and Ramsay were such good friends when you were children," she told you as the door was pulled open by your father, a grin on his face as he reached to help you out only for you to flinch away from him.