Game of Thrones - One Shots/Imagines (Completed)

Ramsay Bolton x Reader - Rumour has it.

"He's a monster; the cruelest man alive," your sister whispered as you sat huddled together on her bed, both hidden under her furs to keep out the cold winds. "Jack told me so," she added as she cuddled closer to you, hugging your arm to her tightly.

"And how would he know? He's the blacksmith's son," you told her rolling your eyes, "Not all rumours are true Polly," you added and she shrugged, her head leaning to rest on your shoulder lightly.

"I don't want you to go," she uttered softly, her bottom lip jutting out in a small pout. She was only eight but she knew that once you were married it would be years before you got to see her again.

"I don't want to go either, but Father has already come to an agreement with Lord Bolton," you murmured, smoothing down her hair and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. You had been betrothed to Ramsay Bolton as soon as he was legitimised by the King and your Father was thrilled to be sending you off to marry the future Warden of the North. The rumours of his cruelty had reached you quickly, and not just from Polly, you had even heard the maids gossiping about his hunting habits.

"Just stay here with m;, tell him you can't go," Polly started, tears coming to her eyes as she grasped at straws to stop you leaving.

"Father won't listen. I have to go, but as soon as I can I will come home to you," you lied, holding her closer to you as you looked out into the dark room, lit only by a single candle at your sister's bedside. "Or maybe you can come and visit me at Winterfell," you added, the room remaining silent other than your sister's sniffling and the clattering of the shutters as the wind crashed into them.

"Maybe Ramsay will be really kind and let you live here whilst he lives in Winterfell," she muttered quietly and you let out a sharp chuckle.

"I will have to live in Winterfell," you told her gently.

"At least ask him," she whined.

"Okay, Sweetness," you promised her, kissing her forehead once again.

*Time Skip*

Ramsay Bolton was everything anyone had ever told you and worse. He got this deranged pleasure out of watching others suffer and though it was rarely aimed at you it made you sick to see it. The man you were married to enjoyed inflicting pain onto others and you were often made to sit and watch. His cruelty seemed to seep through Winterfell. No man, woman, or child would even dare step foot near Ramsay or his new wife. The maids wouldn't talk to you, something you had never encountered before. At home everyone loved speaking with you but here they held their tongue, scared of saying something that would get them in trouble.

Winterfell was nothing like you were used to either. When you had last visited it as a girl it had been beautiful and full of life, but now it was so dull and colourless. Not even the flowers seemed the same, though that probably had more to do with the changing seasons rather than the change in inhabitants.

There was not much for you to do now that you were married; you were expected to be at Ramsay's beck and call at all times but you grew weary sitting in on his meetings with his father, choosing instead to sit in your chambers. You whittled away the hours in the day with your sewing or by reading a book on your own. That was how you were sitting when Ramsay came to find you one evening.

"You seem bored, My Lady," he spoke causing you to jump in your seat and sending the book clattering out of your lap as you looked up at him. He let out a sharp laugh as your hand came to rest over your heart, breathing deeply as you calmed yourself.

"You startled me, My Lord," you told him softly, leaving the room silent. It was rare for Ramsay to seek you out purely to talk, and his voice interrupting your reading was usually so that he could take you; his father was insistent that you were to have a child as soon as possible, even though you were far less eager. You quickly got out of your chair moving over to the foot of the bed, waiting for your husband to have his way with you, as he usually did.