You and your sister Lyanna were in the armory, examining your brother Brandon’s new jousting armor, emblazoned with the sigil of the wolf on glimmering steel.
Lyanna was the first to speak. “It’s so clean and unattended…” her eyes drifted over to you, devilment clear in her eyes. “It would be a shame if someone tampered with it. So embarrassing for Brandon, if his armor didn’t fit quite right.”
You nodded, crossing your arms. “Especially if that Tully girl saw him, he’d be pure raging.” Reaching forward and unlatching an arm-guard, you tucked it in the folds of your dress, along with the helmet and accompanying sword. By the end, you’d left half a set of armor in the armory, and the other half on top of Ned’s bed.
The trap was laid, but the next part was trickier.
You were waiting in the armory when Brandon arrived, cursing and searching the room for the missing pieces and finding you instead.
“Y/N, where did you put my armor?”
“I didn’t touch it. I know who did though.” You extended a hand and lead him out into the center of the courtyard, pointing up to the open window, where Ned was examining a lovely steel blade, the same color as Brandon’s breastplate.
Brandon’s expression grew murderous. “I’ll go fetch it then.”
He disappeared into the castle, and a few moments later, you could hear the shouting from the second story.
“-I didn’t take it! I don’t know how it-”
“Choke and die!”
Taking Lyanna’s hand and shaking it in a celebratory way, you examined the havoc you’d created for your brothers. That’ll teach them what throwing snowballs in the morning yields.
@legendsaresooftenwarnings requested: “What if Ramsay has a legitimate sister that Roose is trying to marry off to a younger son, and Ramsay just keeps killing them?”
Warnings; (half) sibling incest, graphic description of violence, smut, sexual language, Ramsay Bolton?
You glanced out over your shoulder, barely peering around the corner as Ramsay’s hands began to trail up your skirt. You could feel his lips trailing up your neck, his nose dragging across your pulse point as he left wet kisses and quick bites along the sensitive flesh. “Careful,” you warned rather softly under your breath, “this isn’t a good spot for-” as you made a move to push off the wall, Ramsay pushed you back into place with quickness, a growl sounding in his lower throat, guttural.
“I’ll kill him. I’ll cut his heart out of his body and feed it to him on a silver platter, I’ll-” his voice was muffled by your skin, but it didn’t much matter. The words had their intended effect, and you were soon shivering in his arms.
andtheytoldustotellyouhello 