Game of Thrones Imagines Book Two

We want her - Part 1 - Roose x Ramsay x Reader

For irustamm, and anyone else that shares our love of the Bolton boys.

Petyr had brough him Sansa Stark, but neither Ramsay nor Roose had any idea that the whoremonger would also be bringing with him the greater prize. The eldest daughter of Eddard and Catelyn Stark. The one that the local smallfolk referred to as the lone she wolf. (Y/n) Stark.

If her father had been the lord of the north. Her brother, its king. (Y/n) Stark was definitely its queen. The oldest female Stark child, commanding immense respects from all those in the great castle since she had arrived back at her home.

Ramsay of course knew of (Y/n). He had even heard his father speak quite favourably of her. Often even describing her with romantic undertones. But until the moment that she, Baelish and Sansa had returned to Winterfell, he had never actually had the honour of seeing her in person. And once he had, the face and form of her younger sister, seemed to vanish. The only thing that the Bastard of the Dreadfort could think about, being the lone she wolf. And given that fact, Ramsay had failed to see how his father would also watch the beautiful woman. The new Lord of Winterfell, and Lord Paramount of the North choosing to ignore his pregnant wife more than he normally did, when (Y/n) was present.

The smallfolk around the great castle had gifted the beautiful young woman with her moniker, not due to (Y/n) being any different to the rest of her family. In truth, she was as fiercely loyal to her kin as every other Stark was. It was more that they saw her as being more independent than her siblings. A young woman that preferred to do things by herself. A free spirit, that had hidden fires. And a ferocity that stood her apart even from the rest of the wolves.

Ramsay had heard that she had wanted to journey with the Ned's bastard, to the Wall. (Y/n) declaring that she didn't care if women weren't allowed to be part of the Night's Watch. That there always had to be a first for everything. An exception to the rule. And she wanted to be that exception to the rule. The lone she wolf stating that she would rather face what lay beyond the Wall, with Jon, than deal with the intrigues and conspiracies of court. To have to deal with the insufferable, snivelling little brat that was Joffrey. Or be a watchdog for her sisters. But Ned had won out. And the lone she wolf had found herself in the last place that she had ever wanted to be. No longer freely able to roam the vast expanse of the north, but caged in the dark and stinking city. (Y/n) finding that upon the murder of her father, instead of having to suffer the public humiliation and insults that Sansa had had to endure, she had had to endure her own indignities. (Y/n) forced to face her own nightmare. The lone she wolf imprisoned and tortured at the behest of Joffrey and his mother. (Y/n) deemed to be far too dangerous to be allowed to remain free.

Yet she had managed to survive all that. The young woman appearing even more fearsome and formidable than Ramsay had heard she was before all that had happened. And all that made not only him want her more, but also his father. For despite everything, she was still every inch a queen. Both men knowing that to wed the oldest daughter of Ned Stark, would give a claim to Winterfell the legitimacy they wanted. Both Bolton men knowing that marriage to the younger she wolf would mean nothing if someone else were to claim (Y/n). Roose more than happy to have his new wife meet with a little "accident" if it meant that he could have (Y/n), instead of his son.

"But you wanted Sansa. The deal was for Sansa. Not (Y/n)." Baelish protested, as he stood up from his chair. The whoremonger not liking the idea that Roose and Ramsay now wanted to change the agreement that they had made.

"What's the difference? You still get the gold whether it is (Y/n) or Sansa. One Stark whore is very much like the other. Why would you have a problem?" Roose reasoned, as he dropped into his chair as the head of the large, long table.

"Then, if that is the case, why not just take Sansa as agreed?........."

"You know exactly why we want (Y/n) instead. She is Eddard's oldest surviving child. Her claim to Winterfell is greater than that of Sansa. If (Y/n) were to marry a Bolton, the people would not question their new masters. Or is there something else behind your reluctance to see (Y/n) remain at Winterfell?" Roose interrupted, as he got to his feet and glared at the Master of Coin.

"Is it that you possibly see yourself being able to claim (Y/n)'s hand? Claim Winterfell for yourself? Everyone knows of your feelings for her mother. That you hoped she would be yours, before Brandon and then Eddard claimed her. Perhaps, as you could not have Catelyn, you wish instead to have (Y/n)." Roose growled. The whoremonger backing away as he looked between the two Bolton men.

It was true what Roose was insinuating, not that Petyr would dare admit it. Especially with Roose and Ramsay seeming to be moving ever closer. Hanging over him like two dark, evil spectres. Petyr fearing for the safety his own skin.

(Y/n) was more beautiful than even her mother had ever been. And the whoremonger had set his eyes firmly on the lone she wolf, from the moment that she had arrived in Kings Landing with her father and her sisters. The old wolf and the mockingbird almost coming to blows once, when Eddard had overheard Petyr speak in lurid terms about his oldest girl. Petyr had tried to persuade the new king to give (Y/n) to him on the death of her father. He had tried to reassure Joffrey and Cersei, that under his watch, she would be no threat to the new king's rule. But neither of them would hear a word of it. They had both seen (Y/n) while she had been in the capital. Knew of the fire that lay in the lone she wolf's heart. Knew that even though Sansa was no threat, the same could not be said for her stronger willed, older sister. But once she had escaped the prison. Once she was with her sister and he, Petyr knew that despite everything, (Y/n) had the strongest claim to Winterfell other then her two younger brothers. But if something were to happen to them, then (Y/n) would be the rightful heir to Winterfell. And even though ruling in the north was not the same as ruling the Seven Kingdoms, the title of King of the North, at least in Petyr's mind anyway, did fit him quite well.

Yet what could he say? The Lord of the Dreadfort was not known for taking no for an answer. Neither was his bastard son. And Petyr had no desire to end up on the cross, his skin peeled from his body.

"Very well. (Y/n) is yours. Yet I fear that she will never agree. She........." Petyr began. The whoremonger knowing that he could do nothing but capitulate to the new terms.

"Of course, she will agree, Baelish. (Y/n) is a Stark by name and nature, despite her lone reputation. She will do all she can to protect her sister. And if that means taking Sansa's place in a Bolton's bed, then she will do it." Roose interrupted. The wicked smile gracing his lips, not making Petyr feel any more comfortable.

"Now. I think that we should go and give the ladies Stark the good news. Don't you." Roose added, as he turned and left the room with Ramsay and Petyr close behind. Ramsay having the strangest feeling that none of what his father had said, was to benefit him.