Sansa Stark gave birth to 2 children. Halleck and Darla Boltons. How will their lifes look like? As half Starks and Botlon. How will they deal with their name and House? Are they going to be as their father,Ramsay Bolton?
There is violence, r@pe, murder, profanity, manipulation, animal abuse and more in this book, so please if you know you don't like it, don't even start reading it. + I neglect any time line in this fanfic. (None of the asoiaf characters are aging)
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ꕥ Halleck Bolton ꕥ
I've never understood why parents tell their children not to be afraid of anything and to try new things. If I hadn't been as fearless and proud as my Uncle Robb was, my body wouldn't now be wrapped in smooth satin six feet under, my mother wouldn't be wiping her tears in her sleeve and blaming herself for my death...
꧁-⊹٭⊹-꧂
It was the day of my tenth birthday and I was sitting on the floor on a fox skin to avoid the cold from the freezing floor.
"Halleck!" I heard my father's shrill voice coming down the hallway. I quickly hid the small wooden horse under the animal skin beneath me. I knew he didn't like to see me playing with anything other than a wooden sword or bow.
The door swung wide open and a chill poured into my heated room from the cold hallway.
My father, Ramsay Bolton, stood in the doorway, his frosty blue eyes staring into my soul, his face twisted into a mischievous smile.
Ramsay sat down next to me and began to run his hand through my raven hair. It was shoulder length and the ends curled into small ringlets. I just smiled and waited eagerly for what he had to say.
"I have a present for you," he said sweetly, stroking my cheek. His thumb ran over my bottom lip. I smiled widely and quickly stood up from my sitting position.
"What's the present?" I asked eagerly with a sparkle in my eyes. "You'll see, my boy." Father replied, slowly rising from the soft fur animal skin as well.
We walked through the dark corridors of my home, Winterfell, I tried to keep up with my father but couldn't catch up. Ramsay stopped at a massive wooden door that led to a dank dungeon. He grabbed the silver handle and looked behind him.
My light blue eyes studied his every movement and facial grimace. Ramsay grinned and pulled the handle, opening the door and motioning for me to go first. I happily ran into the narrow hallway. I walked up the narrow stone stairs into the smelly dungeon. My father followed me silently.
I was illuminated by the strong glow of the wall lute. I stopped and averted my eyes from the unpleasant light. I felt my father take me firmly by the shoulders and lead me on. I slowly opened my eyes and saw my present. It was lying on a wooden table in the middle of one of the cells.
"Do you like it?" Dad asked, urging me to come closer. "She's pretty..." I whispered, taking my new crossbow in my hand. The wooden hilt was decorated with the Bolton crest.
"Why not try it out now?" Dad said with a twisted laugh as he helped me draw the bowstring and fit the arrow.
"Here?" I asked uncomprehendingly, reaching my scratched hands to the handle. "Yes, this was just part of your present!" My father announced with exaggerated glee, grabbing my wrist.
He dragged me to an unknown destination, deeper into the cellar. All sorts of torture instruments, swords, crossbows and bows of all sizes peeked out of the darkness at the sides.
I looked around in wonder, but I could feel my father pulling me deeper into the darkness and cold of the stone castle.
Fear-filled screams and the clanking of chains echoed throughout the the cellar complex.
Ramsay walked to the iron door and turned the key in the lock. The monstrous door opened with a creak.
In the left corner of the room lay the wolf. His legs were chained to the wall with metal chains and he had a few bloody wounds on his back.
His grey fur was covered in blood. The lack of food was evident on the huge animal. The chained wolf's body was emaciated and saliva was dripping from its massive mouth.
"Shoot..." my father whispered in my ear and lifted my hand, which was gripping the wooden handle of the new weapon tightly.
I looked at my father and then at my victim, who was baring his teeth at me angrily, and without a single hesitation I shot.
