Fox Hunt

BY : Little_Kink_Riding_Hood
Category: G through L > Game of Thrones
Dragon prints: 10228
Disclaimer: I do not own GOT. It is the property of George RR Martin. I receive no financial gain (only personal satisfaction) from this story. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Fox Hunt

Chapter One: Run


                The sounds beneath the wheels of their carriage became sloppier as the ground grew wetter and whiter. A small but ornate carriage being pulled by a spotted horse made its way to the North with no flags to symbolize any great house in particular. In it were three souls- a Lady, her maid and their driver. Despite the impending gloominess of the new climate, Fyona found herself smiling at the simple joy of what little sun beams peaked through and reflected off her copper bracelet and endless river of silky black curls. Any peaks of sunlight were growing rarer as they traversed further into the North so she tried to take in her fill of it. Fyona was already beginning to miss the warmth and the sounds of the Riverlands. The Rorstarks were distant relatives of the Starks that evolved with the Tullys when her great, great grandmother had refused to leave the rivers and sunshine for the bitterness of the North. It would so happen that she was on her way to Winterfell. Her parents, Lord and Lady Rorstark informed her that it was simply a trip to visit her cousins, Bran and Rickon. She, however, knew that to be a falsehood. It was the swarming influx of suitors begging for her hand. Though a Lady, Fyona was still considered by many to be a bastard due to her mixed race. It was funny that way. She was a sought-after prize more so for her beauty than her modest wealth, but the origins of her birth left many believing she her to be attainable. Her maid, Hildi, noticed her dreamily stroking one of the five different embroidered birds over her bodice. ‘To be free like that…I’d fly back home right now, then dive into the river.’ Fyona wore a flowy black dress embellished with shimmering birds on top and various forest creatures and green grasses at the bottom. It clung tightly around her upper arms but exposed her creamy shoulders and defined collar bones. Her sleeves opened up at each elbow and a long slit started high on her left side, exposing much of her long, shapely leg. Lady Fyona’s skin glowed a radiant caramel even with the sun’s growing absence- something quite rare in all of Westeros. Half of her lineage could be traced all the way from Dorne (another long story).  

“Aren’t you cold, m’lady?” Hildi’s soft voice woke her from her day-dreaming.

“Not just yet. But thank you, Hildi. I just want to enjoy the sun as long as we can. I’ll put on the cloak Sansa made me long before we get to Winterfell.”

“Will she be there to great us?” Fyona’s expression fell.

“No, she…last I’d heard, she was still trapped in King’s Landing. There’s this rumor…that she was forced to marry another Lannister.”

“Another? By the Gods…”

“I don’t know for sure.” Fyona said with a sadness in her voice. “I tried not to listen. They’re just rumors.”

Just then, it was as if the hand of a God came down and struck the back wheel. With a crashing sound, they jerked to a stop.

“What on Earth…?” Hildi gingerly rubbed the back of her head and toyed with the ribbons holding her chestnut waves.

“Let’s get out and see what that was, Hildi.” Fyona gathered her skirts and stepped out with youthful energy. “Tristin!” She called, “What was that?” She made her way around the carriage. Tristin was already inspecting the wheel.

“Well…it’s the strangest thing, m’lady. These three spokes have been bashed in. I couldn’t tell you by what, though. The road looks clear...”

The horse whinnied. Something was beginning to spook him and Fyona quickly moved to his side. She held his large head in her arms and stroked the velvety softness of his nose.

“There, there, Jolly… What’s wrong, baby?” 

Echoing like a distant war drum, the galloping of another horse caught their attention. Atop a great, black steed, a handsome rider headed their way up the trail. The young man had an odd way about him, but he was certainly beautiful. With pale white skin, and hair even blacker than her own. It was a rarity when any man could make Fyona blush by looks alone but it was impossible to ignore just how boyish and ruggedly handsome this stranger was.

“I see you’re in need of some assistance, Lady Fyona of House Rorstark.” The handsome stranger dismounted his horse.


“How do I know exactly who you are?” Ramsay cut in with a smirk.

“Allow me to introduce myself.” He took her free hand and kissed it so softly that it sent shivers through her entire body. “I am Lord Ramsay of House Bolton.”

 “And the stories about you are quite true, you know, Fyona Rorstark. The rare and exotic bastard beauty made official by the Stark cousins.” He waved his hand across the sky to mock her description. “You’ve even earned yourself quite a nickname up here: The raven-haired fox of the Riverlands!” He leaned in eerily close. “And I can certainly see why the people call you that.” Ramsay all but undressed her there, exploring her toned, shapely body through her dress. Her breasts and bottom were far too large for her rather petite frame and her gown did nothing to hide it. In fact, the tightness around her waist revealed her to be the perfect little hourglass of his dreams. His domineering presence made it almost impossible to speak. She tried not looking him in the eye, but that only drew more attention to her thick, long lashes and full, pouty lips. Fyona so badly wished she had heeded her maid’s advice and changed into the warm winter cloak her cousin Sansa had sewn her, but she had yet to be bothered by the impending cold- until now.

“Look, I-”

“You see, pretty thing- I’m a hunter. And hunters, unfortunately for you, must do what they do best.”

At this, Tristin finally stopped fiddling with the wheel and moved to get between the women and this creep.

“Oy, Lord Whoever, we don’t need whatever it is you’re-” In the blink of an eye, Ramsay had whipped his arms from behind his back and sliced Tristin across the stomach. As the poor man struggled to keep in his guts, Ramsay threw the same knife directly between Hildi’s horrified blue eyes.

“Hildi!!! My God, Hildi!!!” Fyona screamed, tangling her fists in her hair. Unceremoniously, Ramsay took hold of the knife and jerked it out from Hildi’s skull. Tristin moaned her name over and over as Ramsay held his shoulder and drove the thin dagger back into him. Fyona choked on her uncontrollable screams as the young lord stabbed Tristin’s chest long after the life had seeped away. There was a devilish gleam in his dark eyes. He took out a cloth and began to wipe down his toy.

“I did my research. Studied my prey, clearly identified her gorgeous face and famous tits from a mile away-” He flashed her a smile, “and laid in wait. Did you think you were being clever by not wearing your house’s banners? Did your family think that someone like me,” he motioned to himself with the dagger, “wouldn’t be able to sniff out someone like you?” then to her. Ramsay laughed at her silent, open-mouthed response as if he’d told a badly-timed joke. “But luckily for you, I love to play games too.” He saunted over to her, closing the gap and making her unconsciously step back all the way up against the bloodied carriage. He was much taller than she was. His handsome lips curved into a knowing smirk as he stared down at her darky. His voice was heavy, melodically Northern, and dripping with seduction. “And this game is called, ‘Be my Bride or be Eaten by Dogs’.” He was so close to her now that she was practically pinned.

“You…you’re insane! You’re a fucking monster!”

“Tell you what…I’m feeling quite generous today. And I’m going to give yooou-“ He made a drum roll on the bloody wheel of her carriage. “…a head start!”

She stood there shaking, replaying the deaths of Hildi and Tristin over and over again.

“…what…?” She gulped with true confusion. His jovial expression went dark.

“That’s two, girl. I don’t like repeating myself. The real question is: How fast can you run?” He whistled and soon the familiar sounds of barking in the distance filled the dead air, making him grin with delight. He was the devil. She was sure of it.

“Let the fox hunt begin.”








Almost finished with chapter two! Up soon. Thanks for reading :]

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