Fianna Bua, Lady of House Bua, never thought that she'd be riding off to war for the liege lord she hadn't even met.
But oaths are oaths, the Buas have fought alongside the Starks for centuries and she wasn't about to be hailed an oath breaker.
So w...
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Ramsay
"Open the gates!" He heard screamed by a guard of the Twins, the small party of men he held behind him were waiting patiently behind Ramsay Bolton for the Twins to unfurl their gates and allow them inside.
But he himself wasn't feeling very patient. Any and all meetings with his father made him nervous, the nature of his visit to the Twins only furthered that. But he couldn't deny there was one feeling overpowering that by a long mile, a sensation of pure excitement.
Breaking Theon Greyjoy was fun, breaking a King could only be even more so.
Reek wasn't permitted to come, lest anyone should recognise him or he should chance an escape. He was safely back in the Dreadfort in his own pen along with the hounds.
When they were finally able to enter the stronghold, he was surprised to find his father actually waiting there for him. Usually when Ramsay visited, he would have to seek him out.
Even though he was waiting for his sons arrival, Roose Bolton still wore a look of dismay as he always did. The fat young woman, who Ramsay did not recognise, at Roose's side looked more pleased to see him than his father did.
Quickly, he dismounted his horse and approached his father, both men's jaw clenched all the while.
"Hello father," he greeted, as Roose looked him over suspiciously.
"Walda," he began, gesturing to the woman beside him, "this is Ramsay Snow, my bastard."
Gods, she truly was ugly, Ramsay thought. The very definition of a Frey. He knew his father had taken a Frey bride for himself, why he had chosen one so hideous he couldn't fathom - he heard Edmure Tully's bride was actually beautiful.
Plastering a fake smile on his lips, he moved forward and kissed her on the cheek politely, greeting her with "hello, mother."
She couldn't have been much older than Ramsay himself, so the statement seemed to alarm her.
"Where is that little pet of yours?" Roose asked in a quieter tone after dismissing his wife with a nod of his head.
"Back in the Dreadfort," he replied, a proud smile growing on his face.
"What did you do with him?" His father asked, narrowing eyes piercing through his son.
"I trained him," he said, disgustingly happily with the atrocities he had committed, "he was a slow learner, but he learned."
"Trained him how, Ramsay?" Roose sighed, filled with contempt for his son. Ramsay rapidly blinked for a few seconds before replying vaguely.
"Peeled a few bits, removed a few others."
Roose gripped him roughly by the collar and hauled him forward to him, before realising their very public location and decidedly letting him go. Instead he chose to wrap an arm around Ramsay's shoulders and begin to walk with him inside the castle, squeezing his shoulder harshly.
