Ramsay stood just outside of Winterfell, his hands clasped behind his back and his posture straightened as he awaited the approach of a carriage. Inside the carriage would be his bride-to-be, a woman of a Northern House.

Ramsay briefly glanced over at his father, Roose, as the older man stood at his side. Probably to supervise him to make sure he didn't scare the woman off, or kill her.

Luckily, Ramsay didn't have any thoughts of killing his betrothed, not yet, anyhow. He still needed her to bear him heirs, of course, he could rough her up a little, but all in due time.

The vicious bastard of the Dreadforts eyes lit up with excitement as he seen the carriage approach, his lips briefly curling into a sadistic grin before he altered it to seem genuine and sweet. He enjoyed playing a flase persona, it got in peoples heads, messed with them.

As the carriage stopped and the doors opened, Ramsay had already made his approach, gently grasping his betrothed hands as he helped her out, his mind racing with many thoughts as he looked the woman over.

"Ah, how was your journey, my sweet?"

Ramsay made sure his voice sounded honeyed, all the more better to make his betrothed fall into the palm of his brutal hands.