SWEET CREATURE [ Ramsay Bolton ]

CHAPTER THREE

     Darren watches her carefully as she dresses in the mirror. She's keenly aware of his gaze and makes a show of every movement, flourishing her garments as she wraps herself in them. Even while she has her fun, she knows better than to think he's admiring her. His loyalty was won out of compulsion, not by any semblance of veneration. Because as he watches her prance around like a maiden, he knows what truly puts her in such a seemingly lovely state. She's only ever so happy once she's just fed.

Blood always makes her more charming than usual; as he ponders it, she smiles at him and he wishes she were different.

"There's been a bit of a stir in the village," he tells her, unnerved by her convincing disposition. "Some of the peasants were found dead this morning."

     Katherine doesn't flinch. Her mood doesn't even sour at such distasteful conversation; she merely continues to admire her own reflection, turning every which way to inspect her dress. It's a style so different from the kind she was used to. The material is thick, layers upon layers of rough-spun wool and fur. It was nothing like the brightly colored silks and lace of the south. A sigh of disappointment falls from her lips.

     Stifling his own sigh, Darren stands and begins to pace. Katherine's casual disinterest is worrying. Her feedings had been gradually growing more and more frequent. Soon, people will begin to catch on. Soon, people will begin to point fingers.

     "Isn't that a normal occurrence around here?" She murmurs, dismissing her maids with a wave of her hand. They curtsy quietly before scurrying out of the room. Katherine seems to fill the role of lady easily, never shying away from using the power her status allowed. He wonders who she was before she became Esme Ambrose, if she was used to such power. He knows more about Katherine than anyone else at the Dreadfort yet still her past remains a mystery to him.

     "The smell of death," she continues, "seems to permeate the air here. I noticed it the moment I left my carriage upon arrival."

     "Yes, well," Darren sighs, "they're saying it was the result of an animal attack. Ramsay's hounds are considered to be the popular culprit."

     "Perfect." Finally, she looks at him and he sees the first sign of emotion cross her face. She's pleased with herself, why wouldn't she be? She is smart, powerful, and hiding in plain sight.

     "You seemed to have everyone fooled." At his statement, her eyes narrow and she twists around to peer at him more closely. She's like a snake, he thinks. Like a dangerous serpent lurking in murky waters. Yet, no one but him knew. Katherine's perfect disguise gaines sympathy easily. "They worry about you," he explains. "The highborn lady, caught in the clutches of a madman."

It's true; she remembers the girl she had met out in the village. You're a sweet girl, m'lady, peasant had said. You don't belong in a place such as this. The naivety and concern for Katherine's safety was a bit endearing, she must confess. And it's how Katherine makes the game fun; she plays naive better than any other actress could.

     "We'll see who is caught by whom, Darren." The juxtaposition of the sinister tone in her soft voice send chills down his back.

     Katherine turns back to the mirror and her attention is lost once again.

     . . .

The study is dark, cramped, annoying. Ramsay really wouldn't be bothered to sit through another reprimand from his father in such dusty air but duty calls. To become the legitimate Bolton heir is all that matters, after all. He imagines all that would one day be his as he forces himself to play obedience.