WELL FLAYED [Game Of Thrones: The Boltons]

15. The Silver Wedding

THE AWAITED DAY OF RAMSAY SNOW and Lady Nisha Umber's marriage arrived as the new dawn broke the sky. The servants were engaged in accomodating the incoming guests from nearby noble houses and were ceaselessly preparing for the feast that would be held after their lord and lady's wedding ceremony tonight.

Everybody seemed to be occupied with matters that involved the wedding; some servants even remained in the open cold, just to perfectly decorate the godswood with a path of lanterns to be lightened once the dark had claimed the place - which was all under the strict command of their Lord Roose Bolton. Meanwhile, others, such as the guests hailing from house Locke, house Karstark, house Manderly, house Hornwood, to house Stark, were all busy managing their gifts that they would hand to the soon-to-be newly married couple.

The Dreadfort was abuzzed, and in the midst of its commotion was Ramsay who stood still on the curtain wall surrounding the part behind the castle. He was wearing his caliginous pourpoint and gabardine, with the pelt of a grizzly bear that he hunted and killed last season, hanging behind his back as a glorious cape which shielded him from the cold. His dark waves of hair stirred in different directions as the breeze moved past him, making a mess of his locks. However, he still appeared unruffled and...godly.

He was gazing at the heart tree in the middle of the godswood. Its crimson leaves were rustling in the wind, creating hissing whispers that made his ears hurt. Its white and pale wood with a carved face was stiffly scowling back at him, as if it were judging his whole being. The weirwood did not approve of him, it never was even in the beginning when he was just but a babe cursed from rape. And he hated the tree for it, but mostly the Old Gods. Although there he was, about to be married before them once the sky turned dark. The gods could be so petty some times. He did not want any of it at all, but he had to, to permanently seal his claim to his lady.

Nisha, uttered his mind that seemed to be more louder than the raging breeze. Nisha, his sweet-sweet Nisha who had stolen the hearts of his people, who put the sun in the North and brought warmth in their house. Her purity and kindness were divine. He couldn't tell if they were supposed to be a political tactic, or just really an innocent agenda. Either way, he applauded it. Her relentless devotion was amusing.

He couldn't forget their shared time in the small town of Oldwood yesterday. What they spent to do together was still clear as day in his eyes. It was actually perplexing to him since trivial matters often didn't last long in his head. All that he could store in his memory were ways he could torment people he liked and people he disliked. And yet there he was, reviving what occured in Oldwood with her.

The first thing that they tried together was fruit-tasting, the ones that were from Dorne- her known homeland, that's why she was so jumpy and elated all of a sudden.

Ramsay watched how she savored that green grape with her soft lips and tongue. How the juices burst in her mouth. How she squeezed her eyes shut as the sweetness took her senses. At that moment, the only thing he wanted to taste was her.

He wondered if that sweet expression of hers would be the same when he devoured her maidenhead into nothing once the night of their consummation transpired. There's nothing he desired more than to go beyond kissing her lips. After preying with servants, commoners, and whores, he couldn't wait to finally know the taste of a noble lady.

With such innocence in her eyes, Nisha pulled the bastard boy to go play games next. Her gentle laugh were like the sound of harp; it was music in his ears. He wondered if her screams would be as soft as that. Oh, her screams, he had liked her laugh before, yet he had a feeling he would like her screams more. Either from pleasure or pain, Ramsay would still find it entertaining.

"Let us play darts!" Nisha told Ramsay, but it was more of an excited command. Before he could say anything, she had handed to him his share of darts to be hurled at the target board pinned to the wooden wall of the stall.