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"Roose," the young lady murmured as she sat beside her husband at yet another Northern feast. She hadn't been married to the Lord of Dreadfort for long, but one thing she had learnt was that the further North you went the more drinking, feasting, and whoring happened. Lady Elaena had lived all her life as far south as you could in the North. So far South that many tried to claim that her family were not even Northern.
She was young and naive, barely passed her ten and eight namesday when she had married the infamous Roose Bolton. He was indeed cold, ruthless, and easily capable of unspeakable cruelty. Just as the words of House Bolton threatened. He was always reserved with a heart of stone, but there were worse men that Elaena could have married. Many worse men. Lord Bolton, despite all of the hearsay, was a lot nicer than most of her father's men. He respected her and never put her in arms way. He had never forced her, and he was gentle. Her father had not cared who she married; he did not care about an awful lot of things. But House Bolton was on the most powerful noble houses in the North and that he did care about. So, when he had the chance to trade his only daughter for money and power he did and Elaena hated him for it.
Now she was sat another dinner for another Lord she couldn't quite remember the name of. Lord Glover? No? Lord Clover? She couldn't remember. Roose had told her many times on their journey here so she wouldn't forget and embarrass herself when she needed to greet the Lord. She had forgotten his name, but luckily the Lord had introduced himself first.
"Roose," Lady Elaena said again as she sat beside him. She wore a pale blue dress along with a fur pelt around her shoulders. As soon as she had married him, Roose had ordered for her to get a whole new wardrobe. She was thankful, not because she didn't have nice clothes before, but because they weren't fit for the new Lady Bolton.
"Yes?" Roose asked looking to his youthful wife as he removed himself from the ongoing conversation between the Lords,
"I want to go," she muttered,
"why?"
"it's cold and I don't like it," Elaena replied looking to his pale, piercing eyes,
"it doesn't matter whether you enjoy it," he replied with a small smirk to his lips as he placed his hand on top of hers, "you're here as a guest to Lord Glover and you'll sit in his presence until he says not to, understand?" That was his name. She made a mental note to not forget it in case she had to greet the Lord again. Elaena dipped her head in response to her husband's word, letting out a small nod in agreement. She couldn't quite remember what he had actually said because she was trying to remember the other Lord's name, but she was sure it had something to with them not being able to leave yet.
She sat beside her husband and listened to the conversations that surrounded her, not that she understood and or cared much to understand any of them either. So instead, she drifted off into her own thoughts. She wondered whether this is what her life consisted of now. It was not that bad; she could have been in a lot worse of situation and Roose was not that bad either. Yes, he may not have any genuine human emotion, but he wasn't evil. There just was not much of any emotion with him. He kept to himself, reserved, and so did Elaena and she liked that and besides when they finally did have a child, Elaena would be occupied with that. Maybe her husband might even shed the slightest emotion when that happen.
"Elaena," she heard her husband call as his voice brought her back into the present, "Elaena," he said again squeezing her hand,
"sorry," she muttered bowing her head to him again,
"we can go,"
"really?" she replied as Roose saw the first sincere smile on her face in what felt like eternity. He liked it when she smiled. When she was happy. It made him happy and that was a rarity. Not many things brought him happiness, but the young girl sat beside him did. He wasn't sure why. He was Lord Bolton, one of the most feared many in the North, yet this little naïve girl's smile made him want to smile too. He wasn't mad about it either.
"Yes," Lord Bolton replied letting the corners of his mouth curl into a small smile as she watched her almost jump from her seat. She was young. Too young for him, he thought. But she was beautiful. Not just in a young girl kind of beautiful but because she was elegant and graceful in her every move, her every smile, and when she did, she could light up any room. She looked like the Queens and Princesses of the South that every young boy dreamt of. Yet, she was of Northern blood and that made her beauty even the rarer. He was ever so lucky to be blessed with such a beautiful bride and he did not know what he had done to deserve her. Not only was she heavenly with looks, but she also had the purest heart. She was kind-hearted and loving and more than he was ever worthy of.
"Let's go home," he smiled placing a kiss to her forehead as they went to leave.
