Game of Thrones one shots / preferences

Roose Bolton X Reader Pt.2 (Another Love)

You slip your arm into his, and begin to walk, feeling the warmth from his chest radiating outwards into your arm.

"I visited Dragonwood once, shortly before the Battle of The Trident. I was on my way down from the Dreadfort. I stayed here for a few days with your father and grandfather before the three of us travelled down to the Riverlands." Roose said.

You nodded and smiled, replying "My father always spoke fondly of you, My Lord. You grew up together, did you not?" Lord Roose seemed kind. He didn't look at you with pity in his eyes, instead a slight twinkle of cunning occupied them.

"Yes, your father was a ward of my father, Lord Dayron. We spent nearly fifteen years by eachothers sides. He gave me this particularly nasty scar." Lord Bolton pushed the sleeve of his mail up to show a long thick scar on his pale, slightly muscled forearm.

Your skin tingled in sympathy for him. You reached for it with your free hand and gently ran your fingers along the length, eliciting goosebumps from the older man. ""How did he give you that?"

"We started to fight over a woman. First to draw blood got to persue her." He replied, hastily shaking the mail back down to cover his arm. "Your father won, but upon seeing my wound, we both realised that no woman was worth throwing our friendship away over."

Padding through the entrance hall, you stop and gesture to the several paintings and busts that adorned the space, explaining their origins and allowing Lord Roose to view them closely.

-

A little more conversation and walking passes, and you finally reached the central hall. Lord Roose slips from your arm and steps forward, only a few steps, but you instantly miss his touch. His eyes scan the room, as he takes in the space, you wonder if he is looking for any exits and hidden recesses. You had heard from your father he was a very private and unsociable man however, so far at least, you didn't think this was true.

The man steps back and takes your arm again, his grip a little forceful but not unwelcome. It felt assertive, dominant, possessive. Your stomach flipped at the feeling of his grabbing you and taking your arm. Although a simple innocent gesture, it made you feel giddy, your head spinning. You continue walking, many servants squeezing past, their arms laden with flagons and trays and food cloches.

"I confess, My Lady - I know very little of you. I am not one for writing letters, and have heard little to nothing about you or your brother except from your births and your brother's betrothal." Lord Bolton's words were laced with sincerity and regret, regret most likely for not being in touch with your father you suppose.

"Please, Lord Bolton, call me y/n. Where to begin?" You ask. You hate talking about yourself, hate being the centre of attention. "I am twenty one years. My father never pressured me to marry at a young age, therefore I am unwed and not promised to anyone. I love riding and tending to my horses, as well as sewing and writing poetry. I also have a large garden in which I cultivate herbs and edible flowers. If you would like to see, I could show you?" Turning your gaze to the man to your left, you notice he has been watching your face the entire time you spoke.

You blush slightly and turn back to the direction you are heading towards as Lord Roose replies - "I would love to see, y/n. You must tell me more of your horses, I too have an interest in them. I have bred five generations of stallions which I sell for quite a fine sum. And please call me Roose."