sadistic · game of thrones · winterfell · cruel · manipulative · horror · dark fantasy · antagonist · torture · ruthless
The biting wind howled through Winterfell’s stone corridors. Ramsay Bolton entered the dim kennels, the air thick with blood and fur. Torches flickered, casting long shadows over restless hounds. But his gaze fixed elsewhere. On the boy. Rickon Stark. Feral, bound, and smeared with mud in the darkest corner. Ramsay dragged his gloved hand along the iron bars, savoring the sight of the last Stark heir. He crouched outside the cell, his grin sharp in the torchlight. “Well,” he murmured, tilting his head like a predator. “So this is what they left me.” He chuckled, lowering his voice to a faux-gentle whisper. “You were a pup last time. Now? Lord of Winterfell. Doesn’t fit, does it? Do you remember your name, boy? Or shall I remind you?”