"My lord! PLEASE!" the man begged. But his pleas went unheard. With another crack, the whip slashed across his back. "Ah" the man fumbled to the ground.

"Something wrong with your legs?" Ramsay quipped. "I-the beatings my lord. I can't stand," he wimpered. Ramsay snorted. "I don't recall your legs having a problem when you stole from the kitchens. But when I try to teach you such a valuable lesson, they seem to fail" He leaned down, looking the man in the face. He was dirty, most likely poor and hungry. But young enough to know how to stand! "Frankly, I'm offended."

"I-I'm sorry my lord" he stuttered and shook, but still no standing.

"Stand" Ramsay commanded. The man attempted to push himself upward. As his back stretched, the striped wounds across his back opened wider, blood flooding anew. There was nothing but a few strips of skin left at this point. He fell back forward, landing on his elbows. Pathetic. There was worse pain then this. The peasant should be grateful. Ramsay took his glove off, baring his hand to the cold, and promptly stuck it in one of the gaping wounds. The man let out a painful yell. "I said stand," he hissed, digging his finger further in. The man's howls became even louder. But now he was flat on the ground. It was an amusing sight to behold, but he had other matters to attend to. He removed his finger and forcibly pulled the man up by the neck.

"Guards!," he called. In a moment there was a half dozen by his side. He tossed the man at the closet one. "See that our friend has a nice walk to the cells," he grinned. "I would so hate for him to lose one from disuse." Upon hearing the thinly veiled threat the man whimpered, but went forward with the guards.


The men were loading up their trunks on the horses as Lucyia wrung her hands. No, that wasn't ladylike. She quickly pulled them to her side. Any little offense could be enough reason for the Boltons to reject her. The early morning air was piercing through her dress; she wrapped her woolen cloak tighter around her. They were to leave soon; taking a few days to get there. Maybe if the Gods were good the Boltons would be gone. Off to help in a battle or settle a dispute. Something. Anything.

"Lucyia" she heard her mother's soft voice call. She turned to see the woman coming out the main door, Tarviss and Damien following behind. "Your brothers wanted to tell you goodbye."

"Bye Lulu" Tarviss wrapped his arms around her. She gladly returned the gesture. "You two behave yourself now" She said, holding her arm out for Damien to join. "Don't get eaten by dogs. We wouldn't like that." Damien added. She felt her heart stop and drop into her stomach, but let out a small laugh. No need in them thinking she was frightened.

"Damien!" her mother chided. "Don't spread such rumors. It isn't polite."

"But Braydon said-" "Never mind Braydon. He's in a foul mood."

That's when Lucyia realized he wasn't there. He hadn't come to see her off yet and they were leaving any minute. "I thought he'd be here" she admitted a bit disappointed.

Her mother simply shook her head. "He's pouting like a child. You'll have to forgive him dear." Her older brother had always been the stubborn one; he loved to sulk when he didn't get his way.

"Well I'm just sorry to leave you alone with all these boys and the amount of trouble they get themselves into" she laughed, attempted to lighten the situation. It must have worked because her mother did smile. "Don't act like you were an innocent child. The stress you caused me", the older woman let out a laugh. "Sneaking out to the river, you almost drowned. Twice. And I believe you're the reason we have a newer barn. How you managed to burn it down in the first place is beyond me." There was probably a much longer list her mother had stored away. Lucyia had done her best to forget most of those. "And it took us forever to get you to stop pricking yourself with your stitching needle. You claimed you liked the way it felt." That one Lucyia did remember clearly. She'd prick each of her fingers, intrigued by the needle and the strange sensation it brought to her fingers. "Moving out" she could hear a guard yell. It was time.

Her mother wrapped her in a hug. "Be just as fearless as you were then, okay?" All Lucyia could do was nod. But her mother took her by the chin, with a deathly serious look, "If that bastard hurts you kill him in his sleep" She had never heard such talk from her mother. Her kind demeanor was being chipped away by fear. "I'm sure it won't come to that," she reassured. Lucyia turned to leave but quickly added, "But thank you"


Their horses trotted ever closer towards the door of the keep. They were still several yards from the main door but the dread was growing ever present in her stomach. It would be a blessing if she was able to keep down her breakfast. She'd taken great pains with her appearance that morning. She picked out her red and grey dress, embroidered with a swirling pattern around the edges. Her dark brown hair was pinned just so to the side and she had added a bit of color to her cheeks. Hopefully her appearance was enough to garner his attention, but not too much attention. If she just smiled, nodded her head, and say what he wants to hear she should be fine. At least that's what she kept telling herself. Maybe Ramsay Snow-no Bolton, she mentally chided herself. He was a Bolton. She'd have to watch her tongue. The reigns shook in her trembling hands. Taking in a deep breath she attempted to calm herself. Shaking would do her no good. Show no fear.

They arrived at the door too quickly for her liking. Turning to move from her horse, she saw her father's hand outstretched to help her down. She gratefully took it, not knowing if she would have been able to do so without falling in her current state. He looped her arm through his and guided her up the stairs. Her eyes stayed fixed on the door looming in front of her. The moments before they opened felt like years. Just as they were beginning to creak open, she felt a quick kiss on the top of her head. She looked up to see her father smiling back down at her. "Remember our words."

"Rooted and Strong" they repeated together with a smile. And so they entered arm in arm, her head held high.

"Lord Bolton" her father called out, bowing before the man seated in the lords chair. She quickly followed suit. Roose Bolton was an average looking man, save for the menacing glances.

"Blackthorn. Welcome.", was his dry greeting. His gaze quickly landed on her. "This must be your daughter."

"Yes, my lord" her father indicated for her to step forward. She obeyed. "This is Lucyia, my eldest daughter." She curtsied another time, bowing her head for if nothing else then to escape his gaze for a moment. A curt nod was his only answer. "My son Ramsay" he waved forward. From the side of his chair stepped a man, tall and broad with bushy hair and a thin beard. He stared straight at her with blue eyes that seemed to pierce her very soul, as though he were looking something. Perhaps a weakness or fear. It felt as though ice had entered her chest and her heart had to beat faster to get it to thaw.

"My lady" he leaned forward, as he bowed he took her hand and placed a kiss on it, never breaking eye contact. His lips curled into almost a cruel grin and then he looked away back towards his father. He must have found what he was looking for.

"Well she is quite pretty isn't she father" he laughed with that same grin. It made her stomach queasy but not in the same way it had felt moments before. She couldn't quite place her finger on it.

"Aye, she'd make a decent enough bride." That was supposed to be a compliment she assumed.

"And where is your bride Lord Bolton? I had looked forward to meeting her." Her father asked, ever courteous.

"Her rooms. She seems to have fallen ill with a fever. She should be well in a few days time. Thank you for asking." He rose from his chair as he began to give his servants a command, "Show them to their rooms. They must be tired."

"Thank you my lord" her father bowed once more. Lucyia turned to follow the tall thin woman who had appeared in front of her. The woman avoided looking at her and kept her head down, "This way my lady." As she began to walk down the hallway, she felt that icy feeling again. As she turned back, she saw those blue eyes following her again. The smile was back as well. He gave her a wave, as though he was an excited child, eyes full of mischievous glee. She gave a small wave back, slightly confused. He seemed to like her so far. Hopefully that was a good thing.


Ramsay had taken stock of his possibly soon to be bride. She was pretty enough, long dark brown hair, green eyes, a round face. Yes, she'd do in the looks area. But the real issue, was she sturdy enough? He'd gotten a good enough look at her as they had walked in. She was shorter in stature but by no means fragile. Her hips were wide but not large, her frame sturdy but not fat. She'd probably be able to withstand a night with him, possibly two. At the very least, she had a body able enough to produce children. Hmm…but his thoughts were interrupted from going further by his father.

"By no means do you bring a whore into your bed whilst we have guest" he commanded, giving him a sharp look.

Ramsay laughed, "Of course not Father. I would never dream of it." He bowed deeply, if not mockingly. "Now if you'll excuse me dear father, I've a wife to court." He let out another sharp laugh as he turned. If nothing else, terrifying the girl should be fun. He could almost smell it on her.