Game of Thrones one shots / preferences

Ramsay Bolton X Reader - (Mainlander)

I will not marry some weak minded, fragile, mainlander. You think to yourself, seething. I am the firstborn; I am the rightful head of the family. You grip the arms of your chair as your father continues to talk.

"If you marry a Lord, it will mean you move. You will no longer be a Sharpeskar and your brother will inherit Bonebreath Keep." You father continued to pace, sighing deeply. His long silvery hair slicked back, the blood red cloak rippling with his movements. He stopped infront of you, placing his hands on the table and staring into the distance. "Bastard!" He shouted.

Huh? Confused, you look through the small window behind you, but could only see the snow-capped mountains in the distance. "Bastard?" You ask, your confusion compounded by the excited look on your fathers' strong features.

He began to pace again, muttering to himself. You caught a few words, Roose and old friend and favourable.

"Father? What is going on?" You ask finally, getting agitated at the incessant uttering of your father.

"Y/n. If you marry a bastard, he will take your name. He will join your House. That way you marry but your brother will not be able to inherit the title. You will become the Lady of Bonebreath and continue the family line." He was very excited at his sudden genius idea and left the room, pulling you along with him.

Your father sped to his study, forcing you to practically run to keep up with him. Finally, you arrived, and he dashed over to his desk where he pulled out a piece of parchment and his quill.

"I had a friend, back during the rebellion. Roose Bolton. We keep in touch; I know he has a bastard. Roose was not a very nice man -"

"If he befriended you then I'm not surprised." You interject, smiling.

Your father chuckled darkly, and replied, "That is a fair point. Anyhow, he will most likely agree to the match, keen to be rid of his bastard in order to re marry and have trueborn heirs. I shall invite him and his son here, I daresay it will be nice to catch up with an old friend at the very least."

A week passed and the two mainland men arrived, accompanied with several of their servants. Both looked rather displeased with the rocky boat ride to the island. Walking arm in arm with your father along the slippery, wave beaten dock, you brushed your hair from your eyes. The wind was fierce, but you remained unbothered, keen to make a good impression.

Your father unlinked his arm with yours and shook the older man's hand before pulling him into an embrace.
"How good to see you again, Lord Bolton." He smiled.

"And you, Lord Sharpeskar." He replied. It was a shame you couldn't marry him; he did look rather handsome.

"May I introduce my daughter, Lady y/n." You bow your head slightly at the two strangers.

"A pleasure." The Lord said, kissing your hand. "This is my bastard Ramsay."

You look to the younger man as he too takes your hand and kisses it. "My Lady." He smirks, lips pressed against your knuckles. You feel a slight shiver go down your spine as you make eye contact, his ghostly pale, yours deep maroon.