Got One-Shots Book 2

Like Mother, Like Son (Ramsay Bolton x fem!reader)

(seriously dark stuff here. Murder and angst and all that jazz. No fluff to be found here.)

Like most men, Ramsay was thrilled to see that you had bore him a son. He was determined to raise the boy to be as ruthless as he was. To take what he wanted, no matter what. As he held his son, Ramsay planned out the boy's life. He glanced up at you with a smile. "You've done well, Y/N." You wanted to roll your eyes, but you were too exhausted. Besides, you knew that was the most praise you'd get out of Ramsay.

As the boy grew, Ramsay became more and more frustrated with his son. "Ramsay, just let him be," you begged, "You don't have the same interests your father did. Let the boy be a boy for a while." Ramsay ignored you, grabbing up his bow and leaving to find his son. You sighed and went back to your own duties. There was no getting through to Ramsay at this point and you knew it.

By the time your son was ten years old, Ramsay was prone to fits of rage with him. The boy had still not taken to his father's way. He was much more like you, despite how much he looked like Ramsay. Your son refused to hunt for mere sport. He would do it in order to feed people, but not for the senseless killing of animals like his father did. He rarely raised his voice to the servants or villagers. He wasn't violent or cruel. Just the opposite. He was very kind and even gentle sometimes, something Ramsay wasn't going to take lying down. It would all come to a head when your son was sixteen.

"You're too soft on the boy!" he roared at you one evening after your son had gone to bed. You barely looked up from your book. You were used to Ramsay's anger by now. Besides, you'd heard it all before. "When I was his age, I knew the kind of man I wanted to be! But look at him! He might as well have been born a girl!" At that, you weren't going to be silent any longer.

"No, Ramsay. Real men are not cruel like you. Our son is the heir to House Bolton and he will be a kind ruler over our people. He will take their needs into consideration, rather than his own pleasure! He shall know when it is right to dispense justice or when mercy is warranted, something you will never know. I, for one, am glad he will not become a monster like you!" Your skin felt hot with rage by the time you finished speaking.

Ramsay stared at you in disbelief. You never had a problem making your opinions known, especially when it came to your son, but you'd never just laid into Ramsay like that before. You'd never called him a monster to his face. While he hadn't laid a hand on you since he discovered you were pregnant with your son, you'd had your fair share of "punishments" from your husband and you'd seen what he could do to others who upset him.

"You're poisoning him against me. That's why he refuses to take in anything I tell him. You've poisoned my son against me," Ramsay finally said when he spoke again. His voice had taken on a quality that you knew well. The quality of a man possessed with rage bubbling just underneath the surface and it was about to erupt. At this point, you were far too angry to care. You scoffed. "I've done no such thing. Face it, Ramsay. Our son will never be like you, of his own free will." You turned away from him, but that was a big mistake.

You felt him behind you in an instant. His hand was around your throat, holding you to him so your back was flush against his chest. You could feel his hot breath in your ear and it made you shiver. "He will learn to be worthy of the Bolton name, if it is the last thing I do," came Ramsay's reply, words dripping with acid. For once, you actually felt scared of your husband, but only for a split second. You didn't have time for anything else as you felt a strong stinging sensation in your stomach.

You glanced down to see Ramsay's hand clutching a knife. Blood was seeping out all over your dress and the floor. Ramsay gave the knife a twist before pulling it out and letting you go. You fell to the floor, writhing in pain and gasping for breath. Part of you couldn't believe that Ramsay would do such a thing while there was part of you that knew he was capable of anything. The last thing you saw was Ramsay standing over you with that gloating smirk on his face. Then, everything went black.

Ramsay was still standing there when your son came barging into your chambers. "Mother, I-" he cut off seeing you on the ground. His gaze flickered between you and Ramsay. "Father?" Ramsay put on a mask of horror and remorse. "Someone attacked your mother. I was too late." Your son ran over to you and shook you. Nothing.

"I promise you, son, we shall find who did this and they will pay. We shall show them that you do not trifle with House Bolton." The teen looked up at his father, masking his own feelings. He knew, without a doubt, that this was no random attack. That it had been Ramsay who did this to you. Still, he knew he had no chance against his father right now. He'd have to bide his time.

He stood up and faced Ramsay. "You're right, Father. They will pay for this." Ramsay clapped the boy on the back and turned to leave the room. "Good. Come. We must make sure you're ready when the time comes."With clenched fists, your son followed Ramsay from the room. The whole time he was thinking to himself, "You will regret this, Father. You'll see. I will do exactly what you want of me. I will become just like you and, when the time is right, you will regret ever teaching me."