One shot for now.

Ramsay Snow looked at the mutilated body of a young man and smiled. The sight pleased him very much. He hummed cheerfully while cleaning the blade of his knife. Torturing people gave him pleasure, but in this case he had enjoyed himself much more than usually. This man had deserved to be severely punished. Ramsay had caught him peeking at Briseis when she had been taking a bath. Big mistake.

He was the only one allowed to look at her naked body and he had done so ever since her body had started to become the body of a woman. She had been a tiny runt when he had seen her for the first time and in a way they had grown up together. She had lived in the Dreadfort almost her whole life, under the protection of Roose Bolton.

Ramsay's father had made it clear to him right away that he needed to keep his distance; the girl was after all from a noble family. Of course that had made Ramsay want to do just the opposite. Bullying the girl would have been more than easy, she had been blind since birth, but for some reason things had turned out quite differently. There had been something about her that had caught his interest.

She wasn't like anyone he had met; she lived in her very own world. To her he was just like everyone else; she had never shown any kind of fear toward him. That was probably because she couldn't see him. Right now he had blood all over his hands and tunic. He was still humming as he walked out of his own little "playroom" and away from the dungeons.

It was dinnertime and he was already late. He passed a servant who quickly bowed his head, being very careful not to look at him. All the servants feared him, as they should. He didn't wash up or change his clothes before heading to the dining room; that would have spoiled his fun. Briseis was already sitting at the table, eating her dinner.

"Good evening," Ramsay greeted her. "I apologize for being late."

"That's alright," she replied. "How was your hunt?"

"Very successful."

"That's nice."

He sat beside her and briefly touched her soft dark brown curls with his bloody hand. He would have wanted to touch her cheek as well, but he couldn't do that right now. Perhaps later when she was asleep.

"You had something there," he said innocently and glanced at a servant girl who was shaking with fear.

"My dinner?" he stated, keeping his tone of voice light, but the look in his eyes was nothing but terrifying.

"Y-yes, my lord, fo-forgive me," the girl stuttered.

Pathetic. Ramsay rolled his eyes and concentrated on Briseis. She was calmly eating her dinner while he sat beside her; covered with the blood of a man he had just tortured and killed. For some reason the situation really amused him. There was something very enjoyable about her ignorance and helplessness.

She was completely dependent on other people and he had made sure that she relied especially to him. He took her riding, escorted her when she wanted to take a walk in the woods, read to her, what ever she needed. And yes, he often amused himself by sneaking into her chambers when she slept or took a bath.

He enjoyed watching her without her knowing that he was there. Ever since they had been children, he had considered her as his own little doll. She sure was a pretty little doll and he was aware that other men had noticed that as well. The man he had killed tonight wasn't the first man who had died for looking at her the wrong way. She was his, only his, and he had no intention letting anyone take her from him.