ofjealousy:

The WORDS cut through Alina like glass – the VERBAL abuse was the worst of it. The WAY the entire Winterfell castle treated Alina — it was like she was a dog. The LORDS and LADIES scoffed at her. made her perform IMPOSSIBLE tasks and took it out on her endlessly. She would bathe the noble women and they would MAKE FUN of her, treat her like an object, speak about her as if she were a HOUND, messy, smelling hound. Alina OF COURSE would say nothing — even when her brother made her serve dinner on her bony, skinny legs and would HUMILIATE her in front of everyone. He would MAKE her agree with him, even make her say how much of a WHORE her own mother was. She was so beaten down. 

—But to sleep in the ACTUAL mud — with the pigs – it’d be a NEW LOW. 

Tears fell down her pale, bruised cheeks as she whimpered. She could not DENY this – she’d have to do this. If Myranda told her that Alina ate food without PERMISSION and then defied and argued with her — she’d likely lose a few fingers and toes. Her bottom lip trembled, her head bowed. “If—If that is what my LADY thinks is fair and RIGHT – th-then I will sleep with the p-pigs.” She spoke, her tears cascading down and onto the floor. “W-Will you SPEAK of this to Ramsay though — will  you tell him I ate without his permission if I do as you say?” 

She had to suppress the smile that was growing upon her features. If Ramsay was here to see this he would eat her up in every good way of the word. He would be so excited to see how she could manipulate and disgrace someone. To others it might be strange but they understood one another perfectly fine. ---It was their thing, like the hunting. And she enjoyed having power over someone else so very much. 

“I’m not sure.” she responded. “I have to sleep about that one------ as do you.” Her voice was still dangerously kind. 

@the-true-queen-in-the-north​

She recognized how Sansa’s answers were terribly distant and it made her suspicious. The redhead was probably just lying to her. Or perhaps she was too jealous to get into it. Myranda wasn’t entirely sure what was going on but it couldn’t possibly be any good. “Yes. He does make me happy. We have all the same interests.” she responded, pretending as if she didn’t have all her previous thoughts. 

“Are you seeing someone?” she asked eventually, curious, wondering whether or not Sansa could be a treat. 

“Yes, I am.” Sansa said simply, only glancing over at Myranda. She was seeing a man with a burned face and a gruff voice. But she loves him and certainly would not leave him for a creep like Ramsay Bolton.

“It’s good that you have the same interests. That’s important in a relationship.” Sansa flipped through her book, giving that all of her attention. “And it’s good that he makes you happy.”

Sansa seemed distant and Myranda felt as if that was due to jealousy. The redhead probably was jealous Myranda has such an amazing boyfriend. ---And she should be because Ramsay was amazing. Whoever Sansa was dating wouldn’t even come near Ramsay’s perfection. It made the brunette a little nervous, though. Myranda had flaws and Sansa Stark was... well, in many eyes the pretty, perfect girl. And she’d seen Ramsay’s glares... 

“What’s his name?” she asked more sternly than she had intended. “What does he look like? Do you have a picture?” 

—Myranda—

          such bleak prison was far more kindness than the bastard had expected, in all honesty. the tales he’d heard from Sansa, of the horrors and inhuman treatment Theon Greyjoy was made to endure, they’d played heavily in his mind, the moment he was brought meet Ramsay Bolton at the end of the battle… he’d expected to be immediately flayed, to be maimed, to be beaten bloody, to be tortured, to be fed to the dogs. yet, instead, he’d been offered a cell that, all in all, wasn’t even that bad —dark and cold and damp and dirty, true, but it had an arrow slit at least— and was occasionally fed, much to his PUZZLEMENT. which Jon wasn’t sure to be grateful for, or to worry for a real punishment that would find him sooner than later…

          at this point, he was even growing accustomed to his personal gaoler, this young woman who called herself Myranda and claimed to be the closest and most trusted person to the Monster of Bolton. hearing her familiar voice, Jon rolled over on his thin pile of straw and sat back up — even in in the cell, his wrists and ankles were kept in heavy chains, which caused him pretty much to RATTLE with the smallest of motions. and how the Lord o’ Bones would have loved to mock him for it, he had no doubt.

‘ could do with a feather bed and some honeyed chicken, if you have ‘em to spare, my lady. ‘

His answer was actually rather disappointing. She had hoped for him to have been more miserable than he was. The King in the North actually seemed quite comfortable. How terribly annoying. Some of the amusement dropped off her features because of it and it suddenly was so much less fun to be here. 

“Do you remember before you were King? I doubt the Night’s Watch had fancy beds. You must feel at home. You are home after all.” A brow raised as she waited for his response, titling her head slightly to the side. 

♛. MYRANDA :

              Myranda exuded something of a familiar ilk, and for that he could almost turn a blind eye to her lowly status —— Seemed strange to enjoy the company but even in his narcissistic bubble he could do with an acquaintance of which wasn’t appointed to him or fulsome to the brink of pressing Joffrey’s temper. She’d a mind of her own. He admired that. Their vitriol shaped an affinity symbiotic with one another.         ❛ I couldn’t stomach being in the presence of those mongrels for longer than necessary, really, I don’t envy your father nor you but I do anticipate the result. ❜

              Uncouth beasts he thinks —— but uncouth beasts made for wonderful entertainment. Frantic, bloodthirsty, tearing at each other’s throats; He’s seen it before.        ❛ I hear a runt was shredded into ribbons by its sibling, and another went for a handmaiden after running off into the gardens. Is it true? ❜       He asks with boyish enthusiasm, laughing at the image conjured in his mind. 

Joffrey always seemed to know the dirty details that were going on around King's Landing, especially when they happened inside the castle walls. A smile formed on her lips as he asked if the rumors were true and how his excitement showed when he was imagining the picture. Myranda had been there when it happened and she had to keep herself from laughing about it in front of her father. Only the strongest would survive and she loved that game so very dearly. 

“Yes.” she responded, pressing her lips together for a moment before her smile widened in amusement once more. “I was actually rather disappointed the pup didn’t get to that handmaiden. She deserved a good bite.” 

Myranda:

     “I do appreciate that,” he murmured, eyes still fixed on the snarling mother and her pups. Delicate things, now, and helpless, and blind, but in time they would grow to be just as fierce, just as wild. 

     “What do you ask in return?” Ramsay knew of her affections. His voice was lilting, teasing, a soft smile lingering on his lips.

She was drowning in Ramsay's glare. He could be so passionate about certain things; it made her wish she was one of those things he was passionate, perhaps even obsessed about. How wonderful would that be.. 

The brunette flustered a little when he asked what she’d want in return. There were a lot of things she wanted from him, all too naughty to pronounce. No, she could never ask those things of him. He would only reject her, she was sure of that. “Oh------ um, nothing. I like helping you. Or spending time with you. So it’s all good.” 

Send me an ✖ if you enjoy my portrayal.

ofjealousy:

ALINA trembled, looking down at the ground. TEARS fell from her striking blue eyes, as she COWERED at the woman in front of her. “Pl-Please, MY LADY. I will do anything. PLEASE!” Alina cried, the thought of her brother finding out too much for her to handle. “—Wh-Where shall I SLEEP then, My Lady?” The kennels was where she slept – OUTSIDE, on the dirty ground, in the SMALLEST cage surrounded by growling hounds. She was just another hound. 

"Oh, I don't know." Myranda responded sarcastically, faking some sympathy. “Perhaps just in the courtyard. Although I’m not sure if anyone would be happy to have you on display like that. And the dungeons might be too luxurious for you; a waste of space, really. Perhaps the stables will do. But not with the horses, of course. The pigs might have some room, though.” 

Myranda:

     She met his eyes, not afraid of him either in spite of his reputation. Decidedly unwise, but definitely exciting. “If they get hungry enough,” he agreed, lips pressing together as he turned back to the dogs in the corner. “But they can sense fear. You run from them, it’s the last thing you’ll do.” There was something of a laugh in his voice. 

     She liked him, wanted him, and that much was evident in her tone, the darkness in her gaze.

     “Dangerous beings I’ve always found the most intriguing of all.” Ramsay’s eyes narrowed slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching up in a smile. 

As if she didn't know that already. Myranda probably knew more about the hounds than Ramsay did but she wouldn't mention it for she didn't wanted to harm his pride or anything and ruin their friendship in the process. So a chuckle escaped her lips, gaze still dreamily upon his features. 

“Me too.” she agreed with a slight nod. “I will let you know when Father made the selection so you can come pick one or two leftovers yourself.” 

ofjealousy:

Alina could not HELP but tremble at her touch, could not help but WHIMPER as she stroked her curls, her messy ringlets that fell long below her shoulders. Alina could REMEMBER the days when she was little, so YOUNG and Ramsay and Myranda had chased her in the woods, cruelly scaring the little girl. Ramsay had THREATENED to kill her if she ever told and Alina KNEW he would. Alina did not FEAR Myranda as much as she feared her brother, but ALMOST as much — the girl could be just as cruel. 

“M-My — my belly. It’s growls so often now…N-No, My LADY. I d-do not.” Usually Alina was USED to the hunger pains that took her, the way her STOMACH ached, but her voice now TREMBLED, even still because she knew she would be PUNISHED. 

“PLEASE, M-My Lady — do not tell my brother. Please. I’ll g-go back to the kennels. I PROMISE — just please don’t speak of this to him.” 

"So--- once again you didn't think." she responded, her last words a scowl. Myranda cared as much for the girl as her brother did and Ramsay always tempted to get off at Myranda taking control. “I think I should tell Ramsay you were ignorant once more. He won’t like that. And I don’t even think you deserve a place in the kennels. You’re not worthy.” 

Myranda:

     “I know that,” Ramsay’s voice was slightly petulant. “I meant if we can’t get close to them, what’s the point?” There was purpose enough, he supposed, in defying their fathers, in the twofold danger of being attacked and being discovered.

     “Perhaps not.” His lips turned down in the slightest disappointment. “But there’s always a runt.” He glanced back at the newborn puppies, hoping to spot it, but it was still too dark to make out much beyond their outlines, their mother’s snarling face. 

     His head tilted to the side, curious, as he observed Myranda. “You’re not afraid of them.” A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. “Most girls would be. Most grown men, too.”

She could feel his eyes upon her and she thought it was the best feeling in the world. He looked at her; he saw her. And his eyes burned so nicely upon her pale skin, she couldn’t get enough of it. “Why would I be afraid of them?” she asked, daring to gaze back up at him. “It is of no use.” Gaze returned to the animals, a smile growing upon her lips. “They’ll rip you apart whether you’re afraid of them or not and--- well, that’s rather interesting, don’t you think? -----Their undying lust for blood; their passion for hunting and tracking down.” 

Dark eyes met his again, pressing her lips together for a moment, the smile remaining, before she continued. “Passionate beings are always more interesting, don’t you think?”

She had noticed the glances; of course she had. And she had been quite worried about that. Of course Sansa was a pretty girl but— Ramsay was supposed to have for only her. He didn’t though for she had noticed the quick glances. They were hungry and curious; she had seen it herself. And it was eating at her. How could he do that. How could she allow it? Or was Sansa the problem? Was she flirting with him in return behind her back? 

Myranda clenched her jaws together, trying to compose herself. How unjust. Everything was unjust, unfair—— 

Eyes shot up to meet the redhead’s gaze, a bitter expression upon her features. “So—” she started, not trying to sound so it would match her expression. “What did you think of him?” 

What did she think of him? Well if she had to be honest she thought he was a creep. That Ramsay guy was a grade A creepshow and he made Sansa’s skin crawl. But it wasn’t as if she could tell her roommate that. She had to try and be nice.

“You guys looks nice together.” That was good, that was a nice thing to say. Sansa would never say anything nice about a creep like Ramsay since there was absolutely nothing nice to say.

A wide smile started to tug at her lips, softening her features somewhat. So they did look nice to others as well; she already thought so herself. They really were a match, for others could see it too. And Myranda forgot about the glances Ramsay had offered to the redhead almost immediately, smiling rather sheepishly. 

“He’s quite wonderful, isn’t he.” It wasn't really a question, it was more of a statement. 

ᎷYRANDA

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀full brows furrowed as daenerys listened to the girl’s words, heart softening in the slightest despite her face still resembling stone. she was not sure whether to believe the girl or to turn her away, she was entirely cut in two. she knew what it was like to do terrible things for the greater cause but she had never known someone to so willingly follow a man filled with insanity.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❛ and how is it you wish to follow me? i have no need for ladies and i do not advisors. what makes you think i have any use for you? ❜

The Queen's tone was something Myranda had to swallow down for she couldn't allow herself to get upset; not now. She pressed her lips together into a thin line, swallowing thickly and composing herself before she answered. 

“My father was Lord Bolton’s kennel master and he taught me everything I know. You probably have no hounds yet, or so I assume, and it would be an honor making sure you have a well-trained pack of your own. They come in useful in many ways, Your Grace, and all I need is a pregnant bitch to start off. “

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It was cold, uncomfortable and dark. But none of it mattered. It didn’t matter she was being a prisoner, the only thing that mattered was that the love of her life was probably no longer in the world of the living. And the brunette was filled with grief. She cried and sobbed the majority of the time, cursing the gods for being this unfair. Never had she felt this lonely. And this all because she had decided to let the Stark girl go in hope Ramsay would forget about Sansa and start to only have eyes for Myranda again. Had she not been this selfish he probably would’ve still been alive. 

It was all her fault. 

“I came to thank you, Myranda. Not that this was how you wanted this to end, I’m not naive enough to think you did this out of the goodness of your heart.”

"Thank me---" she scoffed. "Such a bad excuse for you to visit, Lady Stark." Myranda spat the last bit, full of disgust.