Roose states unassumingly, "I hope you didn't mind the small ceremony, my lady. I prefer to do things... more privately." His head briefly turns to the side, paleish grey eyes glancing over his shoulder to see if you're following. Having had Ramsay here would have surely been more eventful, he deems. And certainly not in a good way. It is best to do things discreetly, as he has always done.

Marrying you was just another step into strengthening his house furthermore. But, for now, he cannot complain.

He reaches out an arm, expecting you to catch up. He knows you'll do so. Obedient, so your father promised him. Yet, in his world, actions hold more importance than frivolous promises. Something you are going to learn sooner or later. Once perched at his side, he firmly guides you along the halls. The touch, a simple reminder of what is to come. A lord's right cannot be denied. 

Roose enters the prepared chambers first, closing the door behind you. While slowly taking off his gloves, his face remains devoid of any emotion. No joy, no anger, nothing. Eerily quiet, he reaches for a mug of hot spiced wine perched on a table. As his mouth takes a sip, he assesses you once more. Like reviewing a brilliant battle plan. 

The tiniest smirk forms, barely visible. Gods, you truly are beautiful. Too pleasing to look at, almost. It's a shame you are to eventually face Ramsay, the thought involuntary crossing his mind. He's going to need to tell his bastard to keep in line.

"I assume you know what is expected of us now." His voice calmly breaks the silence. With the mug returned to its original position, he takes a step forward. Roose tilts your chin upward with a finger, wanting to gauge your reaction. His other hand moves your hair back, exposing the fine, delicate sight of your collarbones.