𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐁𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒, ramsay bolton

iii. three

°∗.°∗.°∗.° || chapter three.

• ramsay snow i.

297 A.C. // the Dreadfort

          𝕽𝖆𝖒𝖘𝖆𝖞 𝕾𝖓𝖔𝖜 watched as his half-sister Rhea Bolton walked through the God's wood with gray eyes bright and gleaming - tongue running over his meaty, red lower lip. There was still a bit of blood on his hands from the most recent victim he had tortured - a stable boy who had been boasting of receiving as kiss from the little lady herself.

Ramsay had not liked that one bit and goaded the boy before having Damon Dance-For-Me and Sour Alyn knock him out, dragging him to the dungeons. He smirked at the thought, while the latter had done it for sport, the bastard knew that the former had done it because of his loyalty to his sweet sister.

It had not been long since Roose Bolton had assigned a group of men to do Ramsay's bidding - to watch him. Ramsay had been delighted when one of them had been Damon who always seemed to lurk behind her - much like the other Little Lady's Boys - but with more protectiveness and possessiveness, perhaps even love.

Ramsay could not fault him for it as he watched his sister kneel before the weirwood tree, her head bowed and long, ink black locks falling over her face and hiding the tender flesh of her cheeks. She was truly beautiful - like a ghost.

He often found himself watching her, observing her. She moved with the elegance of a premonition, her body thin yet she had slightly rounded hips and desirable breasts. Her neck was long and had a graceful curve to it and Ramsay could imagine himself running his lips over the smooth skin - leaving bruises the color of crimson behind.

His breeches tightened at the thought and the urge to leave the dark corridors, walk into the godswood, and take her beneath the sacred tree tempted him. He would be willing to commit such sacrilege if it meant feeling her tender flesh - he was certain she would cry out for him, drag her nails down his back, and the taste of her would remain for days on his tongue.

Roose would likely string him up and castrate him for doing such a thing so he restrained himself and opted to just slowly creep towards her, catching a glimpse of her out of every window he could until he reached the godswood.

She was still praying, head bowed and hands clasped together, when he approached. His footsteps were light and only the faint crunching of snow filled the air. He knew she would most likely hear him if she had not been so deep in her own mind.

Stopping a few meters away, he observed her once more. The curve of her back could be made out through the cloak she wore over her dress and her small, boot-clad feet peaked from the end of her black dress.

He held back a chuckle as he thought, ' She is still mourning for her dead brother Domeric. Worry not, sweet sister, I will take all the pain away. '

Deciding not to openly reach out and touch her - in case any of her boys were watching from somewhere unknown - he kneeled down beside her and bowed his head. The sound of his knees hitting the frozen ground and his insidious presence caused the little lady's eyes to snap open.

Her eyes turned slowly, almost as if she dreaded looking upon his face, and she flinched when they met his own gray orbs. Her relaxed posture stiffened and her hands clasped together. Her face went blank and nose twitched slightly.

She said nothing as she turned her eyes back towards the ground and squeezed them shut for a long moment. Ramsay soon realized it was because there was no one watching them, no one to protect her from him.