This story starts almost exactly the same way as Ramsay's scene with Roose Bolton in season 5, when he announces that he shall have to marry. Although he shan't be marrying Jeyne Poole or Sansa Stark. Instead it'll just be another OC.

This is my very first Game of thrones fic. But my 13th story on this site, so hopefully you'll enjoy it. By the way I love it when you guys suggest things for my stories. It really motivates me knowing that my readers get what they want. Of course there'll be a little or rather a lot of suspense here and there so you guys won't know what's coming! So please review and enjoy! :)

- Lyrisa xoxoxo

Prologue

Roose Bolton was an intelligent and ruthless man. He was of average size with a soft and hairless body. Honestly, he was rather pleasant looking if you didn't know him that well. He had a rather plain face, beardless and ordinary, with his only noticeable feature being his eerie eyes, which were as pale and strange as two white moons.

The Warden of the north was also cautious, he never publicly expressed his anger, happiness or even his sadness. That was what helped him take over Winterfell in the first place and become it's lord.

His son, however was a sadistic, psychotic savage monster and completely capable of committing unspeakable atrocities without remorse, simply for the fun of it.

He was quite fond of the old Bolton custom of flaying their enemies alive. Lord Bolton, however did not approve of his ways, but he knew that he needed an heir to keep his bloodline going, and for that to happen his son had to marry a suitable bride.

He knew, deep down that the bride in question wouldn't live a happy life, but he also couldn't bring himself to care. He needed an heir and to do that, Ramsay needed a wife.

The boy, Ramsay had just returned from collecting taxes, with him, he bought at least three completely flayed bodies. And there he sat, at a table scoffing down his food as though he hadn't eaten in days.

"You can't hold the North if you let these lesser lords insult us." Roose started, as Ramsay continued to eat. "I sent you there to collect taxes, not bodies."

Ramsay scoffed. "Lord refused to pay. He said the Warden of the North will always be a Stark, and he'd be damned if he kissed a traitor's boot." He paused, with that dark yet almost proud grin on his face. "I flayed him living, along with his wife and brother. I made his son watch."

It was amazing how he talked about it, as though it was something anyone would've done... As though it was normal. "And?"

"The new Lord paid his taxes." Ramsay chuckled, with that dark victorious gleam in his pale blue eyes.

Roose almost rolled his eyes at that. The thing with Ramsay was... well, he had his own way of doing things. See, he'd do everything his father asked him to do , but he'd make his own fun out of it... flaying people alive for one thing.

"I have something important to tell you." His father stated, after a while of silence.

Ramsay nodded as he took yet another forkful of food. "Stop eating and listen." The boy glared at his father, but obeyed him nevertheless. "We don't have enough men to hold the North if the other Houses rise up against us." He sighed, almost angry. "Do you understand that?"

He shook his head, frowning slightly. "Our pact with the Lannisters-?" But Roose cut him off.

"I had a pact with Tywin Lannister. Tywin Lannister is dead." He told him. "The remaining Lannisters are a thousand miles away dealing with that fact. They've never once in the history of the Seven Kingdoms sent their army this far north. If you think they will for us, you're a fool." Ramsay nodded in understanding. "We've become a great House by entering in alliances with other Houses, and parleying those alliances into greater power."

Ramsay knew where this was going and he couldn't hep but smirk a little. "Now the best way to forge a lasting alliance isn't by peeling a man's skin off, the best way is marriage." Roose paused, as though waiting for a response but Ramsay didn't give one. "Now that you're a Bolton by royal decree, it's time you married a suitable bride. And as it happens, I found the perfect girl to solidify our hold in the North."

"What's her name?" Was the only question Ramsay could think of.

"Her name is Lyrianna Stark."

Ramsay frowned. "A Stark? What good will it do if I ma-?"

"Her sister and her have been travelling with Petyr Baelish, the Lord Protector of the Vale. If you marry her you will one day become Lord of Winterfell, and you won't have to fight to keep it. Her eldest brother is dead, making her the rightful heir of Winterfell. If you marry her, then you'll be the rightful heir. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Ramsay nodded. "I've heard she is the prettiest girl in the North."

Roose glared at his son. "Is that all you have to say?"

Lyrianna was indeed very beautiful. Her hair was a rich shade of mahagony. It flowed in waves to adorn her glowing, porcelain-like skin. Her eyes, framed by dark long lashes, were a bright pale green. No doubt Ramsay would like her.

She and her younger sister, Sansa Stark rode behind their step Uncle, Petyr Baelish. A short man of slender build, with sharp features, Petyr had gray-green eyes, a small pointed beard on his chin, and threads of grey running throughout his short, dark hair.

He was, at times capable of putting on a seemingly friendly face with a friendly smile - but his eyes didn't often smile when his mouth did.

Of course, Lyrianna and her sister were incredibly grateful when he saved Sansa's life from their aunt, but Lyrianna wasn't stupid, on the contrary she was rather clever. And she knew that everything he did wasn't for her or her sister. Like marrying her deranged aunt Lysa before pushing her out of the moon door while she threatened to kill Sansa... All that so he could become lord of the Vale.

Nevertheless, she knew how much he loved their mother, Catelyn and how he was helping them to honor her. So for that, she trusted him.

"That's Moat Cailin." She stated, as she got off of her horse, Petyr and Sansa following her as she made her way to the edge of the cliff.

Petyr nodded. "Yes. A bit shabby, isn't it? You've been here before."

Sansa answered before she could. "On our way down to King's Landing, with our father and Arya and-"

"-Where are you taking us?" Lyrianna almost demanded, a feeling of dread rising into her stomach.

Her uncle sighed. "Home."

"The Boltons have Winterfell." Sansa blurted out

"The marriage proposal... It wasn't for you, was it?" Her stomach churned when she watched him shake his head. "Roose Bolton murdered our brother. He betrayed our family!" She yelled.

"He did."

"He serves the Lannisters." Sansa added in disgust.

"For now."

Lyrianna glared at him. "I won't go."

"Winterfell is your home." Petyr tried to reason with her.

She could feel a tear rolling down her pale cheek. "Not anymore."

"Always. You're a Stark. Lyrianna Stark. The eldest surviving child of Ned and Catelyn Stark." He all but whispered. "Your place is in the North, with your sister by your side."

"I can't marry him." She hissed. "You can't make me. He's a traitor. A murderer-!"

"You're not marrying Roose Bolton." He exclaimed, then she understood, her heart beat accelerating. "No, you'll be marrying his son and heir, Ramsay. One day he'll be Warden of the North and-"

"No!" She yelled. "Have you not heard what he's capable of?!"

"Sansa, go wait by your horse, we'll join you in a minute." Lyrianna watched her sister walk away and frowned as she glanced back at Petyr. "Lyrianna-"

"No, you can't make me. I will starve myself. I will die before I have to go there." She cried.

He gently grabbed her shoulders and stared into her sky like eyes. "I won't force you to do anything." He promised. "Don't you know by now how much I care for you? Say the word and we'll turn the horses around, but listen to me." She bowed her head. "Listen. You've been running all your life. Terrible things happened to you and your family and you weep. You sit alone in a dark room, mourning their fates. You've been a bystander to tragedy from the day they executed your father."

Lyrianna closed her eyes at the memory. "I-"

"Stop being a bystander, you hear me? Stop running. There's no justice in the world. Not unless we make it. You loved your family. Avenge them."

She bit her lip and nodded, without saying another word, she made her way back to her horse. "What happened?" Sansa asked.

Lyrianna sighed. "I'm going to marry Roose Bolton's bastard." She knew he wasn't a bastard anymore, but at that moment she didn't care.