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Ramsay's Favourite

"Where is she?" Ramsay bellowed as strode through Winterfell.

Everyone knew who he was yelling for, but no one dare tell him what had happened; Ramsay would most certainly not take kindly to the information, and someone was sure to die when he discovered the truth. The servants scurried away, none daring to meet his eye as he stalked the halls looking for the woman he needed.

(Y/n) was his favourite amongst the servants, although to Ramsay she had always been more than a mere servant. She had been in the service of the Bolton's since she was young child, and as soon as Ramsay's eyes had first seen her, he knew that no other man would be allowed to have her; her sweet smile touched his black heart, her soft voice and kind nature for those around her drew Ramsay to her, like a moth to a flame.

(Y/n) was the only real constant in Ramsay's life, the only one that truly cared despite his feared and gruesome reputation. It would be her that he would call on after an altercation with his father, it would be her he called on at the end of the day when he was covered in blood from his latest victim. She would help him bathe, washing the crimson liquid from his pale white skin, her fingertips caressing his aching muscles, as he told her with glee about what he had done.

Everywhere Ramsay went (Y/n) followed, he would rarely ever let her out of his sight, constantly needing to know that the woman he called his flower was safe. The other servants joked that she was his shadow, not that any of them would dare let Ramsay hear that; he had killed more than one man for looking at her in a way that displeased him, and he had threatened even more for simply mentioning her name.

As he tracked the corridors, Ramsay's concern was growing; suddenly he grabbed hold of a young man that was desperately trying to not be seen by the angry lord.

"(Y/n)! Where is she? Everyone around here knows what everyone else is doing, so I know that one of you knows where she is. Tell me, or you will be the next one on the cross." Ramsay screamed, his hands gripping tightly on the arm of the man.

"S-s-she's down in the kitchen's my lord, with one of the female cooks, and...... and one of the Maesters." The young man told Ramsay; whose grip became so tight that the man yelped in pain.

"Maester? Why would (Y/n) need a Maestre?" Ramsay growled, as the young serf fell under the irate glare of the lord.

"I..... she....... well, I'm not completely sure my lord." The man said, as Ramsay pushed him to the floor, his steely eye watching as the young man crawled away as quickly as he could.

Before he knew it, Ramsay was running faster than he ever had to the kitchens; why would his flower need a Maester? She had been perfectly well and happy earlier that morning, she had only left his side to feed the hounds, and Ramsay knew that not one of those animals would harm a hair on her head.

Despite the hound's formidable reputation, (Y/n) loved them, and they loved her, and she would happily offer to feed them just so that she could spend time with the animals. Ramsay had always found it amusing that she had named each and every one of his hounds, knowing the smallest differences between each of them, even though to others they appeared identical. Ramsay would bet his life that she had not come to any harm due to the animals, so what else could it be?

As he drew closer to the kitchens, he heard the faint sound of a woman sobbing, and as it got louder, he realised it was (Y/n).

His body froze in the doorway as he saw (Y/n) in the arms of a large elderly woman, who seemed to be comforting the sobbing girl; he watched as his flower clung to the woman as if her life depended on it, tears rolling down her cheeks as she shook uncontrollably.

Then he saw (Y/n)'s gown, it was ripped and torn, the only thing keeping it on her body was the elderly woman's hands which gripped at the material, desperately trying to keep the young woman covered as the Maester tried to examine her.

"(Y/N)!" Ramsay yelled out, as he ran over to her, taking her from the arms of the woman, and pulling her into his chest.

"(Y/n), my flower, what happened, tell me." Ramsay said, feeling her grip tighten around him.

"He attacked me Ramsay. He tried to......... he tried to....... he tried to hurt me Ramsay." (Y/n) sobbed, her hands gripping even tighter to his shirt.

At her words, something inside Ramsay snapped; who would dare hurt (Y/n)? Everyone knew not to touch her, everyone knew that she was his, and only his. Whoever dared to try and take (Y/n) was going to pay, not only for attempting to harm her, but also for daring to insult the new lord of Winterfell by taking the one thing that he truly loved.

"Who was it my flower? Tell me who it was." Ramsay said as calmly as he possibly could, he had no desire to upset the woman he loved any further, but he wanted revenge, and he wanted it now.

"One of the new guards that was posted outside the kennels, he followed me in as I went to feed the hounds. I didn't notice that he was there until he had me pinned up against a wall; he tore my clothes and he was trying to touch me, I tried to scream but he pushed his hand over my mouth and just laughed. If it had not been for Banshee biting him, I don't know what would have happened." (Y/n) told him, peering up into Ramsay's eyes that appeared to be on fire.

Ramsay glared at the Maester, as he picked (Y/n) up, holding her protectively against him.

"You will stay with her until I return, I want you to make sure that no harm has come to her." He told the man, as he made his way back to his chamber.

"I will not be gone long." Ramsay told (Y/n) as he placed her gently onto the bed in his room.

"The Maester will remain with you. I am going to find the man that would dare do this too you." Ramsay said, as he went to leave her side, only to find himself being pulled back next to her.

"When you find him, promise me one thing." (Y/n) said, her usual bright eyes growing dark.

"When you find him, I want you to kill him in the most slow and painful way you know, and I want to watch you do it." (Y/n) told him, her usual calm voice shaking with anger.

Ramsay was shocked for a moment, before a wicked smile came to his lips.

"Anything for you my flower." Ramsay said, caressing her cheek softly before leaving the room.

The culprit had proved easy to find, there was no covering the large bite mark that was bleeding profusely; that, and the fact that the man that had been posted with the perpetrator had taken him in as soon as he had seen (Y/n) rush out in tattered clothing, he knew well of Ramsay's feelings for the woman, and was not about to lose his own life for being present, and doing nothing.

As the man was strapped to the cross, Ramsay brought (Y/n) into the room, her eyes glowering at the cowering creature before her.

"Please my lord, I did not know about your feelings for the girl; if I had known who she was I would never have touched her." The man begged, staring wide eyed at Ramsay as he removed his shirt to reveal his pale white skin.

"Please, I am sorry. I would never really have hurt you." He said, turning his attention to (Y/n).

"Well my flower, what do you think? Should we let him go?" Ramsay asked with a smirk as (Y/n) picked up a flaying knife and handed it to him.

"Make him hurt Ramsay, let me see what you can do." (Y/n) said, placing a soft kiss on his cheek before stepping back to watch what would unfold.

As the screams echoed around the dungeons, (Y/n) knew that no one would ever dare harm her again as long as Ramsay was by her side.