Written by Trevor
Written by Trevor
Irritation was gnawing at Ramsay, but he tamped it down. The threat, however veiled it was, would be remembered. Still, the smile slid back onto his face as he gestured to the table.
“Sit, eat, drink…” If he so pleased he could lock this man up, tied to his cross. Perhaps even offer him up to the king for judgement if he wanted something as ridiculous as money.
He sat, digging into the pheasant that was in front of him.
He smirked at the lad and his false courtesies, but sat down all the same and began eating. It was good meat, possibly better than that of King’s Landing; then again, he had not tasted a good meal in a long time.
He took a large gulp of wine and looked at the bastard of Bolton. The lad was small and pale, no real threat to Sandor if it came to a fight, yet he was surrounded by Bolton men all the same – best to stay on his good side. ❝You said you wanted some stories to go with the meal, didn’t you? Go on then, ask your questions.❞