A Red King Bowed

So Many Keys to These Doors

Roose Bolton was a man who would do what he needed to achieve results. "A Peaceful Land, A Quiet People" was what he wanted to adhere to and he had thought he'd been able to do that.

The resistance, though not overt, against his current reign as Warden of the North was expected but not to this extent.

He felt older than he was —hair graying faster than he could blink his eyes. His body, though he refused to think much less admit it, was aching more and more, and the stress of it all hampered his ability to think and scheme as he was used to.

He had thought by having his bastard marry the Stark girl, he would be more accepted and his rule become smoother and firmly in place. How wrong he'd been —if anything, it had simply made things more hostile against him.

He wasn't unaware of the strong lingering Stark loyalty, but he had yet to ferret them out.

But...

Speaking on the marriage of his bastard and Sansa Stark, he felt another type of frustration in him. Anger even.

That damned bastard of his —nothing Roose had imparted on him stayed. He had told him the girl was precious. She was considered the Jewel of the North, a beauty he had no trouble admiring and admitting to.

It galled him, the thought of it. He wasn't unaware that his bastard had gotten the better prize. The Key to the North as Tywin Lannister persisted in calling her before his death, and her importance in the scheme of things was only compounded by the utter, devastating beauty she'd been blessed with.

And his idiot bastard abused and treated her like trash.

She was wasted on Ramsay. Though Roose had done what Robb Stark could not, stuck to his word and married a Frey (and managed to squeeze a generous amount of coinage in the process), he wasn't a blind man.

He had been satisfied with the arrangement and Walda Frey had earned him what he needed and wanted out of it. He hadn't even minded bedding the girl, if only because her reactions to him and his ministrations were pleasing to him and he'd even grown fond of her because of that.

But Lady Sansa was entrancing.

There was just something about her that pulled him in like nothing else, and that his bastard was able to have her grated on him. More so when he knew that Ramsay did not treat the Lady as she deserved.

As he would have treated her, if he'd been her husband.

But...then again, Roose was greedy enough that he would —could still take her for himself.

~⸹⸹⸹~

His steps seemed to echo loudly as he walked towards his destination. He didn't particularly wanted anyone to know where he was going, but he wasn't hiding it either.

Part of him didn't care if Ramsay knew. The other part wanted the discretion, if only to spare any retaliation on the young woman he was visiting upon. Although, he was sure that Ramsay had already left her rooms.

It was just as well though, that he ran across one of the handmaids assigned to Lady Sansa. She looked to be carrying items that would be used for a bath and he intercepted her.

"You there," he grabbed her attention, causing the girl to frighten and look at him terrified. "Are those for Lady Sansa?"

"Y-yes, milord," she stuttered.

"Hand them over," he ordered and dismissed her quickly after.

He continued his way then, deciding he'd received a perfect opportunity. Not wasting time, he reached Lady Sansa's door and easily made his way in, seeking her out. To his luck, it wasn't hard to find her —she was already in the prepared bath, alone and bare to his eyes.