"I can assure you I am not quite as eccentric as my bastard, Ramsay. His reputation as a mad dog has made its way across the North. I am certain you have caught wind of it by now." Roose's calming voice speaks, face eerily composed. With a simple commanding nod, he directs you to walk toward your temporary chamber without any unnecessary protests. No guards needed at his side. The mere thought of needing assistance in escorting a young woman. Disgraceful to him.

He cuts through your binding restraints with ease. Your hands caress the red marks lingering around your wrists, his ears barely picking up a soft sigh of relief. After a short moment of silence, he subtly mentions, the cruel undertone clear as day, "Do not mistake my graciousness for weakness, my lady. Offspring... tend to take after their father." He never claimed to be a saint. God and his men know he is far from that.

There you are, a caged but valuable bird. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, calculatingly taking you in. You're valuable. Pretty to look at too, he admits. Let offers come in first, and then he can decide how to play his move. It's a game that must be played smartly. One of his best bets is to let his son out of it completely. Roose needs you in pristine condition.

"You will be given two meals a day. A wash-up too." Non-negotiable. Most prisoners would yearn for being treated like this. Uncrossing his arms, he strides in front of you, his presence demanding immediate attention. His hand comes to rest lightly upon your shoulder, but his words are a firm reminder. "A few words of wisdom. Do not try anything foolish."