Game of Thrones: Imagines and one shots. Book four

Moon - Part 4 - Ramsay x Reader

The sheets on his bed were soaked with sweat, as Ramsay tossed and turned in his sleep. He was there again, in the woods; but this was not the woods that he knew so well. Not the woods that he had hunted in on numerous occasions for his pretty prey, no. These woods were far more ancient, far more dark. The trees gnarled, twisted; thick moss clinging to the rough bark, and a dense fog covered the floor. It had been raining........he could smell it in the air; and the chance remaining drops of the shower, were falling on and around him, when a slight breeze ruffled the leaves. There was an eeriness in the atmosphere that surrounded him, a quiet that was.......unnatural; and even Ramsay could feel something dark......darker than him, that sent a shiver down his spine.

Reluctantly, he began to move. His bare feet carefully negotiating the forest floor that he could not see for the mist. The light of the full moon that hung fat and lazy in its blanket of night, the only thing there to illuminate his way. It as if its cold pale rays were leading him to something; Ramsay urging himself forward, ignoring the pain in his feet as he stepped on twig and stone. He only stopping as he finally came upon a void in the densely packed trees. The Bastard of the Dreadfort gripping at the coarse bark of the trunks by his side, as the space was suddenly lit, as bright as day, by the rotund celestial orb, and his eyes fell on something........a woman.........the woman that had been mocking him, goading him. She was tied to the pale trunk of the biggest weirwood tree that he had ever seen. Its bright red leaves falling all around her as she struggled against her restraints. She pleading desperately to someone......something that he could not see, to not hurt her. The thin white gown that was somehow still clinging to her body, despite the fact that it had been badly torn, was covered in blood from the many cuts that marred her skin. Ramsay moving back into the shadows of the forest, as without warning, a creature suddenly appeared in the clearing. (Y/n) now thrashing desperately at her bindings, as the strange being moved closer; her continued pleading falling on deaf ears, as the odd person came to stand in front of her, and then..........an almighty scream split the air, as something was pushed into her body. The heir to House Bolton only able to watch as her body began to transform; the eyes of the beautiful young woman turning a bright yellow before her flesh sprouted rough black hair. Ramsay finding himself actually staggering back at the sight of the beast she had become; he falling onto his back as he tripped over something on the ground. And as he looked up, there she was, the great two-legged dire wolf. A terrifying howl leaving the beast's mouth, before its hand gripped firmly at his throat.

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Ramsay woke as soon as his body hit the floor of his room. The young lord crying out, as he fought against the sheet that had wrapped himself around him. His fingers tearing at the material, until it was nothing but shreds around him. His wet hair clinging to his head, as he sat there, exhausted, in the middle of the room.

He was losing his mind. He had to be losing his mind.......that accursed woman had done something to him......she had bewitched him, enchanted him. He was seeing her when she wasn't there; dreaming about her becoming a beast. The howl of the huge dire wolf still ringing in his ears. But what did it all mean........? Was she dead.......? Had his bitches actually torn her to pieces, and this was all the result of a final curse, that had left her lips before she had died; or was she still very much alive........after all Skinner had claimed that he and the others had seen her. Someone had brought his hounds back to the Dreadfort........Ramsay looking up as there came a sudden urgent bang on his chamber door; he getting to his feet as he heard the sound of Sour Alyn's voice, drift through the firmly closed ingress. Ramsay pushing his damp hair back over his head, before opening the door.

"What........?" His voice filled with menace and distain, as he looked at the unpleasant man in front of him, with his rotten teeth.

"Is.....is everything well, milord........? I heard ya shout out.........."

"You heard nothing.....do you hear me.......Nothing.........!" Ramsay growled, grabbing hold of Alyn, before pushing him to the floor.

"Y......yes, milord. Of course, milord........" The man at arms scrambling back up from the floor. Ramsay about to slam the door on him, until.........

"I was coming ta tell ya about tha girl milord........."

"Girl......what girl........?" Alyn now finding his back up against the cold stone wall, as the young lord seemed to be trying to push him through the ancient cut rock.

"That girl.........the girl ya were hunting. We saw her......she was at the kennels........." Alyn explained. The witless man rubbing at his neck as the son of his true master finally let him go; and even though he was only in his breeches, Ramsay stormed off, disappearing into the gloom of the castle. He determined to get to the bottom of this, one way or another; to see if she was truly real, for himself. And if she was, well, what better way to stop her from haunting him any longer, than to this time make sure that she was actually dead.