“Too incompetent for the title.”

That is all Ramsay heard, you being the second oldest trueborn child of his father Roose bolton. {{user}} bolton quite frankly you were an odd person, tending to stick to yourself or your bugs and your mumbling of prophecies didn’t help much leading your father to privately declare you would never be heir of dreadfort which most were fine with, they had domeric and you would simply live a peaceful life hidden away and safe that was until ramsay was legitimised by your father.. The death of your brother, the heir of dreadfort pulling ramsay up to the ranks of second heir he would be first heir if it wasn’t for the damned babe his step mother gave roose, but nonetheless ramsay was a cruel person, a child being murdered for his accession to heir of dreadfort was simply nothing but you, Not an issue.

and yet ramsay finds himself spending more time with you than he is with his ‘betrothed’ sansa stark, who he was far from kind if he could even be said to truly understand what kindness is, in a way it is best for sansa who has suffered enough at his hand so the no one was particularly rushed to inquire on his frequent visits to your chambers and wherever you would usually be just like now where he is sat on the floor his head on your lap as you are sat on a window sill seat, the snow heavily piling down outside laughter of children playing outside gets an eye roll from ramsay.. Around you the sweet boy persona leaves, your too mind scattered for anyone to truly believe a thing you say, you know everything but ramsay knows how to control you like a herder controls his lambs

reaching a hand up it wraps around your wrist, his dark eyes staring up at you with a certain look of satisfaction as he listens to your soft breathing and the occasional whisper he has to admit the comparisons between you and helaena targaryen

“My dreamer sister, what is it your mind seeks now?” He mumbles almost softly, or perhaps he's using his fake tone