Game of Thrones: Imagines and one shots. Book four

In the strangest places - Part 2 - Roose x Reader

"Lord..........Lord Bolton?" (Y/n) asked, as the older man brough up her hand so that he could kiss it. The lady not sure whether she sounded a little silly for asking the question; but given that she had never met her husband to be when he had called on her father, she thought it best to make sure.

"I am Roose, yes." The lord of the Dreadfort replied. A smile threatening to make its way onto his lips, as the younger woman curtsied respectfully.

This was the first time that he had seen the lady up this close. And as beautiful as he thought she had been at a distance, now she was before him, he realised that she was no mere beauty; she was, in truth, quite exquisite. His eyes set firmly on her rapidly rising and falling bosom. The dark blue gown that she wore, just tight enough so that Roose could imagine what he would find when they were wed.

"I would like to thank you for sending your carriage for me, my lord. And for the furs. I had not realised how much colder it would become. I fear that I may have frozen, if not for your kindness." (Y/n) continued, as she rose, and once more looked up at the lord.

It was strange. It was obvious that he was much older than she was. As old as her own father to be precise. And he was.......well, to put it politely, weathered. His features certainly betraying his advancing years. And she could not pretend that even though he was not glaring at her, or making any threatening gestures towards her, she could well understand why people would be scared of him. Why the stories about the head of House Bolton existed. Yet despite all this, she found herself smiling at him.

"It is the least I could do for my bride to be. And please, you must call me Roose; that, or husband, when you and I are wed." Roose replied, as he once more offered her his hand. (Y/n) slowly slipping her palm into his. The lord not failing to notice the warmth that filled him, as she allowed him to pull her closer.

"You have no maids with you...........?"

"No............" (Y/n) began. Her head dropping out of embarrassment. Even though her father had finally been able to dispose of her, he had still chosen to insult her one more time; he had decided to not let her take all of her things. Forbade her from taking all that was important to her, and that included her maids.

"I am afraid that my father................"

"Then I will have some found for you." Roose interrupted, as his free hand quickly moved to cup her chin. The lord carefully raising her head, so that he could see into her eyes.

"I cannot have my lady; the lady of the Dreadfort, without her maids." The older man continued. A small smile pulling at the corners of his lips, as he felt his bride to be, grip his hand just a little tighter.

"Thank you, my............Roose. You are too kind............."

"Not at all. You are to be my wife. How would it appear if the new Lady Bolton had to take care of her own needs. Now, my dear, why don't I show you your new home..............." Roose interrupted once more. The lord taking the ladies hand and placing it into the crook of his arm, before leading her into the darkness of the castle.

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It was dark to say the least. (Y/n) sure that even the torches were not burning as brightly as they would do if they were anywhere else. If she had thought that the outside of the castle, that stood on the banks of the Weeping Water, was menacing, the inside was no less so. Just like the man by her side, she had heard rumours about the home of the family that had been dubbed the 'Bane of the North' too. Heard that the flayed skins of the Bolton enemies were kept as trophies; that they were displayed on the walls for all to see. But thankfully she was yet to see a single one of those; though in truth, she couldn't help but think that they may have given the drab surroundings, a little colour.

"You will get used to it..........." Roose suddenly said, as he escorted her through the corridors to where her room waited.

"I am sure of it. Your home is very..............very, northern." (Y/n) responded, not quite sure what else to say.

In all honesty, her father's castle was drab too. The ancient stones were grey and seemed cold, even in the warmest months; yet there were still places that had some colour. Some places that she had been able to find warmth and a little happiness. But here, there appeared no colour, no life. It as if the place had never known any joy, had never known light. (Y/n) hoping that when she was really the lady of the Dreadfort, Roose may allow her to bring something bright to the castle; even if it were just a few flowers arranged, here and there.

"These are your rooms............." Roose announced, as he opened the door, and escorted her inside. (Y/n) looking around, sure that at least this part of the Dreadfort looked a little less.......well, dreadful, than the rest.

"My own are just further down the way. So, if you need anything......"

"Thank you. I am sure that I will be fine. You have been far too good to me already. I could ask for nothing else." (Y/n) told him, as her eyes moved around the room.

"Father." A voice suddenly exclaimed. (Y/n) and Roose turning to see a grinning young man in the doorway; the young man that could have only been a little older than her, looking at them both. The lady moving backward, as he moved further into the room. Her retreat only stopped, as her back pressed up against Roose's chest. The older man placing an arm around her waist.

"Are you not going to introduce me, father...............?"