⚔️⚔️Disclaimer - This book contains scenes of a violent and sexual nature. It has scenes of abuse, manipulation and it is not suitable for anyone under the age of 18. Please read with caution⚔️⚔️ Avalynn Stark, the oldest daughter of Ned and Catelyn had to fight her battles, deal with the Southern nobles and reining family who wanted her dead, and her house destroyed. She was a long way from her home, in Kings Landing. Full of liars, schemers and murderers. She was betrayed by someone she was supposed to be able to trust, someone who supposedly saved her from the Lannister's, but instead sold her to Roose Bolton, as a gift for his son Ramsay. Ava thought was the hardest battle of her life was won, she thought she was finally free. Could she survive an even darker time? She was loving, kind and pure. Would she be able to survive the new Lord of Winterfell, who was rough, cruel and monstrous? Could hate turn to love? Would there be a light at the end of the tunnel, or would she spend the rest of her life living in fear? She didn't know, but she had to save her younger sister, she would rather take the mistreatment and abuse. Becoming a Bolton, giving up her name, legacy and freedom was better than being dead.. Wasn't it?

Rana Bolton is Lord Bolton's only true heir. Growing up with that bastard Ramsay was difficult as he constantly mentally tortures her even into her adult life, things won't be easy for Rana once Ramsay becomes a true Bolton.

If you think that this story has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention. Railey Snow is Eddard Stark's second born bastard. She has the same dark brown eyes as the other bastard in Winterfell, Jon Snow. Eddard's wife, Catelyn Stark, is not happy about this. When she is given the opportunity to send Railey away once and for all, she does not hesitate. Railey is send to the Dreadfort, to Lord Bolton. There she will meet the sadistic, violent and cruel Ramsay Snow, as most people say. Or will she find out otherwise... This is a Ramsay Snow / Ramsay Bolton fanfic I do not own Ramsay, but I do own Railey. All credit considering other characters goes to George R. R. Martin.

Rhaenys Targaryen, third child of Rhaegar and Elia, was just weeks old when King's Landing fell. Hidden away in a nursery, she was saved by a dying maid-and found by Ned Stark. Choosing mercy over vengeance, Ned took the girl north, raising her in Winterfell as a ward under tight-lipped protection. Now grown, with war brewing and a betrothal to Robb Stark binding her to the wolf pack, Rhaenys must navigate love, loyalty, and the truth of who-and what-she truly is. I don't own the world or characters - they belong to George R. R. Martin and HBO. This is a fan-made work for fun and creative exploration.

*COMPLETE* After Robert's rebellion he and Cersei Lannister welcomed a baby girl, the Princess and heir to the Iron Throne. But after just a few short months the baby girl is stolen from her cradle in the middle of the night by a mystery man. After 20 years, Alana has grown up to believe her father is King beyond the Wall, Mance Rayder. She is torn between worlds when she meets Jon Snow, a crow that her people forbid her from being with. Including her own father, who used to be a crow. What happens when she discovers that she is the stolen Princess? **TW** VIOLENCE, SMUT, COARSE LANGUAGE, DEATH, KIDNAPPING, AND ABUSE. **FANFIC** **18 AND OVER ONLY!!!!**

Ramsay Bolton has taken Winterfell. As the son of the Warden of the North, his only hope of keeping Winterfell is by having a Stark by his side... Sansa Stark is hidden away at the Eyrie. Arya Stark is in Braavos. That leaves only Edda Stark, third child of Eddard and Catelyn Stark, who travels alongside her brother Robb's army. After the Boltons and the Freys successfully trick the Starks into trusting them, they proceed to kill Edda's brother, mother and sister-in-law and capture Edda in what became known as the Red Wedding. From there, they take her to Ramsay.

𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞: 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐒𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧, 𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓. For thirteen years, Prince Baelor Targaryen has played the perfect prince-stoic, dutiful, and untouched by scandal. Until the gates of the Red Keep opened, and Princess Daena returned. She was no longer the child he remembered, but a woman whose silver-gold beauty commands the attention of every lord in the hall. Their shared glances turn into a dangerous, forbidden fire. Baelor knows that loving her is a betrayal of his blood and his duty-a choice that could shatter the very family he is meant to protect. But as the spring air thickens with unspoken vows, the Prince of the Realm realizes that even a legend is only a man And even Baelor as the future king would burn his kingdom down for one more stolen hour in Daena's arms.

❛𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌: 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑭𝑰𝑵𝑨𝑳 𝑮𝑰𝑹𝑳❜ | A 1996 SCREAM FANFICTION ---------------------------------------------------------------- !! || 𝗠𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 || !! [|☏|] ━ [☠︎︎𔓎]; In which the year is 1996 when a string of mysterious killings occur in the little town of Woodsboro, California, and Blair Riley, Dewey and Tatum's little sister, does everything she can to survive. Thing is - she seems to have the full attention of a not-so-sane boy who claims he's '𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦'. What could go wrong? 𝑰𝒏 𝑾𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒔𝒃𝒐𝒓𝒐, 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆'𝒔 𝒂 𝒔𝒖𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒕 - 𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍... • [𝐒𝐓𝐔 𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐱 𝐅𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐂] 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟔 ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ, ɢᴏʀᴇ | ꜱᴍᴜᴛ | ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ | ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ | ᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀᴜɢꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟᴄᴏʜᴏʟ | ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ | ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ. © _Imogen_Ruby_| 2025 |

Lady Seraphina Velaryon is sent to Winterfell as a ward, carrying the legacy of Old Valyria in her blood and secrets that could change the realm. Among the Starks, she finds unexpected ties: the quiet, brooding Jon Snow, who sees the shadows she hides, and the noble Robb Stark, whose warmth and honor threaten to melt her defenses. As whispers of war stir across Westeros, Seraphina must navigate loyalty, desire, and destiny-caught between two brothers, and torn between love and survival. Disclaimer: I only own my ocs , and the stuff not originally in the tv shows. Everything else belongs to the creators

This is the tale that began at the great tourney of Ashford Tourney-the year hedge knights dared to dream too high, princes rode with fire in their blood, and I first understood what it meant to be born a dragon among men who wished to see you burn. My name is Aelora Targaryen. Daughter of Prince Maekar of House Targaryen. Granddaughter to King Daeron II Targaryen. Twin to Aerion-my mirror and my shadow. Sister to Daeron and little Aegon. Niece to Prince Baelor Breakspear, heir to the Iron Throne, and cousin to Valarr of the brown hair and careful smile. We were raised at Summerhall, beneath high towers and hotter tempers. My father, Prince Maekar, believed in discipline as other men believe in gods. My mother believed in silence. My brothers believed in glory. Aerion believed in destiny. He says it often enough that one begins to wonder if he has convinced himself. He was born moments after me, though he refuses to admit it. "Together," he insists. "We were born together. We belong together." He says it the way men speak of prophecies. Of conquest. Of inevitability. His hair is the pale silver-gold of old Valyria, bright even in shadow. Mine is a honeyed blonde that glimmers gold in the sunlight. Our eyes are storm-blue-restless, watching. When we walk side by side, courtiers stare as though they have glimpsed something out of a history book: the blood of the dragon made flesh. But blood alone does not make a story. It was the year a hedge knight named Duncan the Tall rode into legend. The year when my twin smiled at me in a way that made the air feel thin. If the singers tell it true, this is a story of a knight and his squire. They are wrong. And of the moment I began to wonder whether dragons are born to rule... or born to ruin everything they touch. If you wish to hear it, I will begin at the start. Before the events of Ashford. At the first crack in the shell of destiny Aerion so carefully built around us. Shall we begin?