GOT ➨ Game of Thrones One Shots

[S3-4] Ramsay Bolton x Reader { Red Halls }

He took a few slow steps forward into the hall, a whole... Horde of men behind him, following silently so that his tapping footsteps against the wooden boards on the ground were the only ones that made any noise, and echoed around to gnaw at the ears of all those within the room.

When he reached the centre of the hall, he chuckled, before beginning to speak,

"Isn't this a lovely ceremony?
Well, have you ever heard of like father like son?"

He questioned, before falling silent to show he was, for some reason, waiting for an answer. When nobody spoke, and he began to seem quite bored and slightly irritated, you mumbled under your breath, "Yes."

He turned sharply towards you, which you noticed only from the corner of your eye, as you did not want to die today, "Ah! Good. We have a speaker. And, I suppose you've heard of a pretty little event called... The Red Wedding?"

Again, not a single voice would call out, except yours. He's going to kill me after he's finished speaking...he's going to kill me... You thought fearfully, but nevertheless, you gulped down your fear and spoke out, just a fractional bit louder, "Y...Yes."

He giggled a little, then with amusement dripping in his tone, said, "I thought so."

He pulled his eyes from you, to your relief- a relief which lasted a few seconds as he surveyed the room, before coldly changing the lives of all the people within that room with one, single word.

"Fire."

All of his men pulled a crossbow out, and began shooting those around the room- or brandished a sword, and ran for the nearest member of highest authority.

You felt warm tears brim in your eyes and a small scream escaped your lips, joining the symphony of painful cries of all the others around you, before you ducked under the great table and began to crawl, using it as cover, closer to the exit.

As you reached the end, you threw yourself forward and stood, sprinting for the exit only to feel two pairs of hands grab you from either side and twist you around, two different guards either side, one of them pulling a knife as they struggled to keep you still, the cold blade so close to touching your skin,

"Stop! No, not that one." The chilling voice commanded to his 'dogs', causing them to stop, keeping you still with a grip like iron as Ramsay approached you.

You stared at the ground, gritting your teeth to stop yourself from sobbing, "Am I right to presume you are the lady that answered my questions?" Another question, and yet this time you didn't answer, not at first. Then, pale fingers like icicles gripped your chin and lifted your head to face theirs-

You were face to face with Ramsay Bolton.

"Come now, lost your tongue? I think that's a lie- but, you know I could always make that a truth. So, answer me."

"Yes." You growled, eventually,

"Good! I like you, you're different to these little puppies... You're a Wolf. And we all know that the Wolves belong in Winterfell-" You realised what he was suggesting and your struggling became violently enough for you to be able to kick one of the guards in the sort of place not to be kicked, before turning on your heels and sprinting off into the night.

It was only five minutes later when you heard the heavy thudding of horse hooves in a frantic gallop, and you knew it was hopeless, but you kept on running, faster than you had been before- until you were pulled from the ground onto horseback, and you tried once more to leap away from your problems- but fighting on horseback is harder than you thought.

"That wasn't ladylike of you- that's one guard who won't be doing his duties for the rest of the night. I have a good mind to slit your throat with a rusted knife. Or burn you alive- or flay you. Or all three."  He growled, one arm tightly holding you in a headlock to keep you from leaping off of the horse that had slowed to a trot,

"KILL me! Kill me painfully, or quick, with fire and ice or storms and swords- but I have nothing and nobody to live for!" You screamed out, and you heard no response, not for a while, and when Ramsay spoke again, his voice, still hard and leering, seemed to have the slightest a twinge of a falter in it,

"Ohhh, I can't do that, then. It'd be funner to watch you live in pain than to die with a smile, don't you thi-"

An arrow or three flew from the sides of the road, and a few men emerged, all in black, with bows in their hands, and two more after that holding daggers.

The horse reared up and you both fell back, to your surprise Ramsay shielding you from a hard impact against the ground.

He stood immediately, pulling a dagger and a short sword  from his side, and leaping a the first of the men. They had bows, and were easy to take down, so he killed the first two bowmen with ease, and sprinted for the other, hacking at his throat- but when his back was turned to you, dealing with the remaining bowman, you were reminded of the other two as steel really pressed against your neck, and finally you realised you feared death more than you knew.

As you struggled, you were thrown face-first into the dirt, a hard boot against your back, muffled words of the assassins speaking above you, before you heard one of them unsheath a blade, and you knew what they were about to do.

Thunk. Thunk.

The pressure was relieved from your back and, rolling to your front, you felt a hand pull you up and Ramsay stood their, grim. You jerked around, to see the two men who had previously planned on murdering you groaning loadly, with arrows pinning their feet to the ground, and you turned back-

he had just saved your life. So you threw yourself hard at him, hugging him for a reason you didn't know, not now, and burying your head in his chest, crying. Ramsay winced at the emotion shown towards him- this didn't happen a lot. He was never the 'Hero'. But he awkwardly returned the hug, "They can't hurt us now. Not in a moment, anyway. And I doubt anyone will plan on attacking us again when I find the wood to flay them against. About four on the edge of the road will-"

"No." You cut him off in his gory, excitable rant of what he had been planning to do, pulling from the hug with red blossoming on your cheeks, and kneeling by the men, yanking a dagger from one of their belts before they could react back, and swiftly slitting their throats, before looking at Ramsay again, "Death is bad enough for them." You whispered, your breath shaky, before everything dimmed and you fell, unconscious, the last thing you saw being his boots rushing towards you.

When you woke, you kept your eyes shut, and suppressed a great smile to a faint one- he was playing with your hair, and your head was leant against his chest.

Maybe you could change him.
Maybe he was changing.
Maybe he was changed-

Or maybe not.

Either way, you found yourself thinking one thing-

You were pretty glad that Legends never died.