It was a year after the birth of your son George, and your husband Ramsay was still doting on him, allowing him to be present in the great hall when he was conducting business with the Lords and Ladies of other Northern houses. You would sit beside Ramsay, keeping a close eye on your son as he crawled around the room as fast as he could, often pausing to look around him, or to find one of you at the table at the head of the room. You would smile as you watched him, and Ramsay would too when he caught glimpses of him during his conversation.
One day, as you were doing this, a Lord from house Frey was standing in front of you. You could see he was growing more and more annoyed as his plea for more support in taking Riverrun fell on the deaf ears of Ramsay, who was too busy watching his son to pay the man any attention.
"Ramsay, My Love, the Lord asked you a question," you spoke softly putting your hand on his knee to pull his attention away from his son. "I think I should take George to feed, he is probably hungry," you said a little more loudly for both of the men to hear as you stood and moved over to your son.
"And so you should, this meeting is no place for a child," the man started, shaking his head, "and you call yourself a mother," he added as you swept your son up into your arms, turning to look at him in distaste.
"I think it would be better for you to hold your tongue, Lord Frey. Do remember that you are here asking for our help, as you have many times before, and that one day George shall be Warden of the North and Lord of house Bolton as both his Father and Grandfather have been. I only hope he is more forgiving than his parents would be," you spoke softly watching as the man's face turned from angry to worried, and your husband smirked from behind him. "And, for the record, my husband and I don't take kindly to unwarranted parenting tips. I would avoid them in future if I were you, Lord Frey," you added, settling your son on your hip as you turned, walking slowly out of the door and leaving him to discuss his terms with a now very amused Ramsay.
*Time skip*
It was later that evening, when you finally saw Ramsay again, that you could finally calm down. You had been bitter all day thinking of the cheek of the man. You were sitting in a room watching as George played with his wooden toy horses and knights on the floor, your feet curled underneath you when he came in.
"My Love, are you alright?" Ramsay's voice came from behind you, shaking you out of your thoughts as you turned your head to face him and gave him a small smile.
"I am now that you are here," you spoke softly, trying not to interrupt your son's gleeful cheers as he knocked the horses together making them fall over and then doing it all over again. "Come, sit with me, My Lord," you spoke again, moving so he could sit beside you.
"You shouldn't listen to the opinions of fools," he told you softly, "you are a fantastic mother," he added, running his hand up and down your spine as you leant into his side. He pulled you closer and kissed the side of your head. "I am proud of you, your little speech scared the ever-loving shit out of him, if you had stayed any longer I am certain that he would have started begging for his life," he chuckled to himself. "You really are becoming a Bolton," he added making you both laugh again as you rested your head on his shoulder.
"Should we have another child?" you asked suddenly causing him to look down at you with a small smile. "Maybe a daughter? She could be a Queen and George the Warden in the North and then the Boltons will run the whole of Westeros," you spoke again, causing his smile to spread even wider.
"Maybe we should put George to bed and then we can get to work on a little Sister for him?" he questioned as he looked you over with a small smirk gracing his lips. You kissed him quickly before standing, gathering up your son and taking him to his bedroom as you heard Ramsay laughing from the other room. "Some one is very eager this evening," he chuckled loudly as you rushed through your usual bedtime routine.
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