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

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Requested by @GabbyMSsmith

"Isn't this a lovely little ceremony? Well, have you ever heard of like father like son? Good. How about a pretty little event called The Red Wedding? I thought so."

"Fire."

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Rubbing your eyes, you removed a few dishes from the water bowl in front of you and placed them in a bucket to dry, before walking over to a ragged piece of cloth and drying your hands.

Though you were tired, you imagined you would become a little more energetic later on, as it was the wedding of Tara Reed to some second cousin of the Starks, by the name of Marlow Stark- nonetheless, a continuance of the Stark line, to make sure they didn't die completely.

The home of the Reeds was not too bad, and you had been a maid there for a long time now. It was evening, and very nearing the time in which all the guests arrived. There would be people from the Mormonts, the Westerlings, Glovers and Umbers attending. Even a few third cousins of the Tullys, and some hedge knights from House Arryn.

And they were all nearly here. You grabbed two caskets of ale from another servant and carried them up to the Reed's Great Hall, placing them precariously upon one of the tables and going to collect more.

An hour later, the guests had arrived and the a atmosphere was more alive and ecstatic than you had ever seen before. Thank god, you were off duty from them on, and sat at the servant's table, currently pouring a custom creation of wine created by yourself and several other servants and catching on- Winterwine. You were sick of the sweet tastes of cheap Summerwine, so adding a little Summerwine to a glass and filling the rest of it with blueberries and a tiny sparkle of nightshade- enough to cure and not to kill- gave it a cooler, tranquil taste that you preferred.

Lady Tara Reed was beautiful. Her dress was tight-fitted at her waist and above, and flowed free to her feet below, a deep burgundy colour with a golden shirt beneath that showed at the the chest and the ruffles of the sleeves, her black hair tumbling to one side of her hair with a silver wolf pin proud on her chest, gifted to her by her dashing husband.

The Stark himself had a black tunic and matching bottoms and shoes, short-cut black hair and glinting black eyes giving him the look of a fine stark- but he was not just formally dressed- he wore a great, thick cloak of a jet black fur, from a dire wolf he had given a quick death after it's suffering. Additionally, a defying comment had been embroidered onto the tunic he wore, next to a cross with a man in black being flayed upon it- 'FLAY RAMSAY BOLTON.'

You smirked at this, but felt an odd feeling in your stomach- if informers were in the room, or if the Boltons found out about that kind of mocking by any means...

You shuddered, shaking off the feeling of dread and taking a sip of the midnight blue Winterwine. That's when the doors to the great hall...

Were knocked.

The room seemed to quieten a little, confused as to why, for one, there were guests this late- and why they were knocking.

At a gentle nod from Marlow, the doors were opened, and the whole room, even the musicians, fell deadly silent to see who stood there.

Ramsay Bolton.

Your eyes widened and you froze stiff to see the man of wicked legends- not the kind where you cheer for the Legend, but the kind where you hoped it wasn't true that Legends never die.

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