Hello, everyone. I hope this story is as enjoyable as the rest.

Now, before you get reading, I would like to explain why I've been publishing new stories, it is because I want to preserve my own ideas before they are thought of by others. A Bolton Oc and Frey Oc among being the first, (except for two and the Domeric ones in House Boltons case.) I will also be undergoing surgery soon, I will be laid up and unable to update for some time unless I force myself to.

This is why I've been putting new stories up, but don't you all worry. I am writing the Red Wedding chapter for Hour of the Wolf and one more update for The Falcon Flies High among others.

Now any who, I hope you all enjoy this one.

Chapter 1: The Blood of House Bolton

Roose

House Bolton of the Dreadfort is one of the most famous, or infamous House of the Seven Kingdoms considering one's opinion on the matter.

Other House's feel they should put wild beasts on their banners. Wolves, Stags, Krakens, Lions, and Dragons. The beasts are to represent their power but in reality, it is to make them feel the biggest to their servants.

House Bolton has no beast, no sun or sword on their banner. They have the Flayed Man, it is more than a beast but proof of what the Lords of the Dreadfort has done.

The greatest rivalry to the Dreadfort has been Winterfell, the seat of House Stark. That rivalry ended when the Andals came, their Seven-Pointed Star on their heads and hands, praying to some heathen gods.

Roger the Huntsman and Theon the Hungry Wolf sided together and killed them, they both sailed across the sea and ravaged Andalos, bringing back heads and slave women.

That gloriousness ended when Torrhen knelt to the Conqueror, at that moment House Bolton saw their weakness and more so when Jaehaerys whore-queen had him abolish the right to the first night. Over time, House Bolton would get over this and continue the tradition.

When Robert started his rebellion, the Lord of the Dreadfort fought in many battles, Roose had even counseled the King on some matters though he was spurned, he was a hero from the war and just a few short years after that during the Siege of Pyke during the Greyjoy Rebellion.

Roose's line was nearing an end before his second wife gave birth to two twin boys, Domeric and Bruce.

The two boys were splendid in their own ways. Domeric was quite a reader, a fan of music and one of the best riders in the North, far better than Lyanna and some say she was half-horse herself. Bruce was the younger twin, had a tint of the wild in him, he loved to fight but had a problem with being emotional such as when it came to his mother and brother, Bruce also enjoyed hunting and was proficient with the bow.

Roose was proud in this respect, he sired two extraordinary young men, the two were going to bring great changes to Westeros.

Alas, they aren't his only children, he has one more- Another boy. Born out of consequence, a millers wife who wed without his knowledge or consent. He hung the husband and took his right under that very tree where the miller swung.

This incident caused a nuisance for him a year later, his sons were three at the time. The miller's widow appeared with a squalling babe, he almost ordered the wench to be whipped and her babe throw in the river, that was until he looked at the child and stared into his eyes, his eyes and the same his sons and every Bolton shared.

He named the boy Ramsay, acknowledging his bastardy and so gave him the name of Snow. He sent the woman and Ramsay back to their village and said they would have protection and a good enough life with silver and food. He charged a servant to attend Ramsay, a sniveling rat catcher named Reek.

Domeric and Bruce would never know about Ramsay, he forbade them to go in search of the bastard and to speaking with him, they aren't Ned Stark with his sons. Bruce listened to his word, Domeric, however, had listened to his heart on the matter.

Now, he, his wife and remaining son watched as four men interred his heir into a tomb once made for him when he was ready to leave this world.

Bruce gritted his teeth in anger, turning and leaving for the stables.

"I hope you are not going after him, son." His last trueborn son stopped, turning his head slightly, "Do you think I don't want to kill him? That I don't want to avenge my darling son? Bruce, I forbid it." He said to the boy.

"Who said I was going to kill him." He narrowed his eyes at what Bruce said to him, "This 'Ramsay' acts like an animal, acting with cruelty. I would treat him like an animal. Get me a horse, and hounds!" Bruce called and the Stablemaster and his daughter ran to get it done.

"Stop him, husband! He will get hurt or worse." Bethany pled to him and he nodded, which is very true.

"Locke!" He commanded and his Master at Arms came forth, a cut on his face from the Greyjoy Rebellion. "Go with my son, he doesn't kill Ramsay, either you, one of the men going with or the dogs do the deed." Locke nodded and turned for the stables.

There is no such man so accursed as a kinslayer, yet, what of a father killing a son for killing a brother? He shook his head, thinking about what fates lie for his son who hunts for the half-brother who killed his trueborn brother and twin.

"Are you sure of this, Roose? He is our last boy, I cannot bear another son." Yes, that prophecy spoke of his house's last spawn, that the Bolton's of the Dreadfort would soon go extinct and their legacy lost to time and later forgotten.

No. His House's time is not at an end. Not yet.

Not whilst a son of Bolton yet lives, and it will either be a boy he cherishes or a boy he hates for killing the son he loved and misses dearly.

Bruce

Bruce and his hunting party readied within the hour, riding out of the front gate and the hounds barked and thrashed as they were lead towards the village where Ramsey was last seen.

He was enraged. He was furious. He wants blood for the death of his twin brother.

They arrived at the village after an hour, grunting he turned his spurs to the first man he saw, "Where is he?" He demanded of the peasant, the old man sputtered a response.

"Milord, I don't know what you mean- " He didn't wait for the man to finish before turning to Locke.

"Let the hounds sniff him out, I want the bastard found!" He roared into the town.

His men searched every home, every corner of the village for Ramsay but nothing could be found of him.

Then the hound found his scent, or at least the scent of Reek, the guardian of the kinslayer.

The trail led them a half-mile out of the village, into the nearby forest and crossing the Last River, this was Karstark lands and he had little time to find the bastard before justice was taken out of his hands.

He was riding before an arrow zipped past him and hit one of his men, he searched the brush and saw a bow and the one holding it.

"Ramsay... " He muttered and nocked and loosed an arrow back at him, it barely hit him only grazing his ear and striking a tree behind him.

"Mad at me for killing our dear brother? Come and see what I got in store for you." And like that, Ramsay ducked and ran further into the forest.

"Let the hounds chase him! Dismount and begin the hunt!" He ordered and dismounted.

"Lord Bruce, we cannot linger here, if ole Karstark finds out we're in his lands, this could lead to armed conflict," Locke said and he snorted, grabbing his hunting spear from his saddle.

"I don't care. I want Ramsay found. I want him dead and at my feet."

Locke sighed, ready and followed him into the forest. They trekked far and Ramsay was still nowhere in sight, he was getting frustrated as he did hear the bastard and his laughing.

"Domeric was a fool. You are too, brother." He doesn't have the right to call him that or disrespect Dom.

His brother meant everything to him, meant the world along with his mother and father. He swore to avenge him, he'll make it happen even if he has to hunt Ramsay to the ends of the world and then some.

"Come out of hiding, Ramsay. Sooner or later the hounds will find you!" He shouted out, then the laughing started and it got him irritated.

The hounds barked around the forest, then the sound of one of them crying out got his attention and the attention of everyone else. He charged in ahead, sword drawn and Locke and two others following behind him.

He didn't get far before they were attacked, Reek and another thug started swinging at them, they weren't hard to disarm and kill, Locke personally dealt with Reek, the traitor was supposed to guard Ramsay, not help the bastard slay his future liege-lord.

Ducking under a branch he barely missed an ax hitting his head, he lurched left and shifted around from Ramsey who was chuckling.

"A lovely day for dying, do you think?" He had nothing to say back.

Ramsay came at him wildly, like the beast that he was. He had no discipline, no proper training at arms, he narrowed his eyes and parried the bastards blows for blows.

"You think you're better? Huh! Domeric thought he was better, riding here and thinking I would be glad to come home. You are nothing, Domeric was nothing and once you two are gone, our father will see me the far better son." Every word was infuriating to him, Ramsay has to die, here and now.

He swung his sword right, Ramsey's ax hooked it and he smiled widely. I have him, now. He thought and spun the both of their arms around, Ramsay's ax flew out of his hand and landed a few feet away.

The Bastard still had the gall to speak, "I see you've- " He kicked Ramsay in the chest and the murderer rolled down into a small patchy hill.

He attempted to walk down but Locke stopped him, he sighed and shook his shoulder off.

"Your father said that you don't get to land that blow." He scoffed loudly as Ramsey groaned, a sharp branch pierced him in his right leg.

"He killed Dom, how will he die if not by my hands?" He asked his father's guard and Locke chuckled lightly and whistled.

The hounds approached and Locke whistled out again and the dogs rushed down, tearing at Ramsay and the bastards screamed out in pain and most importantly, rage and hate. A moment after that, there was only silence as the hounds finished with their toy and were collared by the guards.

"That is how he dies, now, let's head back to our territory before the Karstark patrols catch us, I would hate for Lord Stark to have to ride from that warm castle of his to stop a petty squabble." He smirked and nodded, turning and walking back to the river where their horses and men were.

Fortune wasn't with him and the others. A dozen riders were coming from up the Last River, he spotted the banner of House Karstark and seethed.

Bethany

A raven came to the Dreadfort eight days after his son had left with Locke, Roose was worried, and she was as well.

She was still in mourning over the loss of Dom, her firstborn and she cried herself to sleep since then and had never worn another color but black. She didn't feel she had a right to wear anything but that, not until she knew that she wasn't going to need it for another death.

Domeric Bolton, he would have been a great Lord, a great leader of his House. He was skilled with lance and horse, a poet and a singer of the harp. He commanded respect, though her youngest definitely had more charm towards the men he led on hunts or when driving off bandits.

"This is from Lord Karstark. He said that he caught Bruce on his land and will be returning him soon... Ramsay is dead." That was good to hear, and the death of the one who murdered her son brought a good smile on her lips.

But her husband, he still frowns. "Is there more?" She asked and he reluctantly nodded yes.

"Since Bruce was caught in his borders without leave by him, Rickard has asked for compensation, that or he will appeal to Lord Eddard Stark on this matter which our son called 'Slaying a beast from the land.' Bruce cannot keep his mouth shut." That is the Ryswell in him, Bruce shows more willfulness than his older brother.

Bruce Bolton. The new heir to the Dreadfort and the future of House Bolton. He hasn't paid much attention, not to as much as his brother had done.

Yet her son has to learn, he is the future of the House. And a future Lord needs a wife. She thought with a smile before turning to her husband, he watched her curiously, he knows.

"Alys Karstark is Lord Rickard's only daughter, a blooming maid of fifteen I hear. Would Lord Karstark consent to tying our houses in marriage?" She asked of her husband who for the third time in their marriage smiled at her.

"He is my son, he deserves a good bride... I will write to Karstark in the morning, for now, I would take my liberties." She blushed as she led him to their chambers and made love for the night.

The morning that came, she saw from outside the window a raven leave North toward Karhold, which is where her son is.