Ramsay's Lady (Ramsay x reader)

Theon Greyjoy

Ramsay was sure no group had ever moved faster. They made it back to the Dreadfort in less than the normal two weeks. Keeping his identity hidden from Theon was moderately easily; Ramsay stayed blended in the middle of the group while riding and in his tent at night, so Theon likely hadn't even seen him.

They decided to knock him out again, just before they approached the Dreadfort. Ramsay wasn't sure he would be able to keep his identity a secret once he saw his wife. He had missed her despite only being gone for a little over a month and desperately wanted to see her now that he knew they were expecting a child.

It had been a good decision. As soon as they entered the courtyard, Ramsay's eyes landed on Y/n. She looked beautiful. She was wearing a simple dress – a dark grey tie-up tunic covering a blood-red frock – along with her Bolton sigil cloak. Her hair was pulled away from her face showing her concentration as she focused on training Willow. She hadn't noticed the men enter.

Ramsay quickly dismounted, leaving the unconscious Theon to be brought to the dungeons by his men. He quickly ran to his wife. Willow tilted her head and nearly began growling as she spotted him approaching Y/n from behind, but – as she recognized him – she stopped. The dog's loss of attention caused her owner to turn around.

"Ramsay," she breathed. She smiled as he grabbed her and lifted her into a hug.

"My Lady." He kissed both her cheeks before kissing her lips. "I missed you." He sighed as he stepped back to look at her. She didn't look any different. Still, he placed his palm on her stomach. "Is it true?"

"I'd never lie to you, my Lord." She smiled, covering his hand with her own. "I'm only about two months, though. You'll have to wait at least another month before I start to grow."

Y/n noticed a group of soldiers staring and laughing at them – well, more specifically, Ramsay. She glared at them, but they didn't stop. Willow, noticing the change in her mistress's behaviour, turned her attention towards the men, lowly growling at them. They seemed to notice the angered pup and her mistress, instantly becoming silent as they sulked away.

Ramsay curiously watched this interaction, noting the men who had thought his love funny but also admiring his wife. She had barely had Willow for three months, and already the small puppy was starting to protect her and mimick her emotions. "Gods, I love you!"

Y/n turned her eyes back to him, raising her brows in confusion. "I love you too," she hesitantly said as she smiled.

"Willow is already following your lead," he answered he unasked question. "You've gained her respect, and it's helping you gain the respect of our men."

"That wasn't respect. That was disrespect that Willow turned into fear." She swallowed as she confessed. "I had nothing to do with it."

Ramsay shook his head at her. "I have earned their fear through the weapons I wield. The hounds are weapons. As you learn to wield Willow, they will learn to fear you." He smiled down at the puppy that was openly exploring the corner of the courtyard they were standing in. "Especially if you keep her off a lead."

Y/n laughed. "That was the first thing I taught her. She won't leave my sight, and if I start to move," she took a step around Ramsay. As he watched, the little puppy quickly ran to be at her side. "She moves with me."

"Perfect." He smiled proudly. He noticed Locke exit the Dreadfort and make his way towards them. "Would you like to see our new pet?"

Y/n turned to see Locke approaching. "I would love to, my Lord." She looped her arm around his as they entered the castle with Locke, Willow following.

The flaying/torture room was at the end of the hall in the dungeons. It was a large room with a couple of windows that let in minimal light. The stone had been smoothed down around the "X" so that the blood could be easily cleaned. Near the back, a small – almost hidden – door led to a hallway which led out to the forest behind the Dreadfort. There were several tables around the room, some of them holding tools and knives while others stayed empty as if waiting for something to be placed there. Everything could be seen from the cross so the victim could see what was coming.

Unless they were unconscious, such as Theon Greyjoy currently was.

Y/n had never been down to the dungeons before, and she had to admit: it was impressive. If she weren't the Lady of the Dreadfort, she would have been terrified. No one had bothered to clean up the small blood spots in the cells which had turned nearly black with age. The metal bars and shackles that hung on the walls were rusted and sharp. But the worst part was the stench. It was terrible, a mix of rotten food and urine.

Ramsay chuckled at the many expressions his wife made as they found their way to Theon. She had gone from curious to disgust to surprise.

"He looks different." She stared hesitantly at Theon. He was secured to the cross, his head covered by a black bag and his shirt missing. She stepped forward, walking around the cross as she observed him. "Will he wake up if I take the bag off?"

Ramsay moved forward, so he was standing right in front of his prisoner beside his wife. "Not, if we give his another knock on the head first." He nodded at Locke who punched the unconscious man before removing the hood. "Better?"

Theon's nose had started to bleed from the recent hit to his face, but he stayed still.

Y/n had met Theon Greyjoy before. It was on one of the trips she took with her father when they went to see the Starks. She couldn't remember what the purpose of the trip was, but she remembered the people she met. Theon was a skinny boy, keen on making an impression on any of the young girls her encountered, but his attitude quickly changed when his friends were around. They made a spectacle of showing off who the better swordsman was or who could ride faster. Often they ignore Y/n or just forgot about her as they moved on to show off something else.

"Yes," she replied. She put her hand under his chin, shaking her head. "The years have not been kind to you, Theon Greyjoy," she paused, letting out a happy sigh, "and they won't be getting any kinder."

Ramsay chuckled. "Let the fun begin."