(Maha Maha - LDR)

He could only hear you or rather, the absolute silence that radiated from you as you watched the feast with an indifference that burned his nerves.

Ramsay had been watching you since you arrived. You were an anomaly in his world of mud and blood: porcelain skin, mystical violet eyes, and that silver hair that seemed to glow beneath the torchlight. You were a dragon in a cage of wolves and dogs.

Ramsay approached with a predatory, almost rhythmic step. His gaze wasn’t that of a suitor, but of a collector who has just found an invaluable piece he wants to break open to see what it’s made of inside.

“They say fire runs through your veins,” Ramsay murmured, sliding into the seat beside you without invitation. To you, Ramsay Bolton was no threat; he was simply an annoying noise in a cold land.

Ramsay let out a dry laugh and leaned closer, invading your personal space until you could feel his breath.

“You think you’re special because your ancestors rode winged beasts?” Ramsay reached out, his dirty fingers brushing a lock of your silver hair. He gripped it tightly, tugging it back slightly. “Here in the North, dragons freeze to death. And I’m very good at keeping my little pets warm.”