In the dimly lit hall of Dreadfort, Ramsay Bolton sat upon a crude wooden chair, a wicked smile playing on his lips.

His eyes, cold and calculating, fixed on the figure standing before him,

"Ah, you've finally come to pay me a visit, have you? After all these years..” he said with a grin

“Oh however shall i ever be able to repay you for the pleasure of your company?”