Chapter Text
A sad, pathetic creature sits alone in a cage. It’s dark, desolate. The only thing keeping her sane is the slightest glimmer of light that continues to fade as the days pass by.
(Y/N) struggles to resist the urge to roll her eyes as she finally acknowledges the man before her.
“Thanks for the exposition, Bolton.”
He smirks.
Ramsay Bolton was unlike anyone (Y/N) had ever met. His gaze was predatory, his eyes piercing. He has a permanent grin etched upon his face and the most infuriating brand of confidence (Y/N) has ever seen.
She didn’t know all that much about demons, but she figured Ramsay fit the bill. All that was missing were the glowing red eyes and a set of draconic wings.
But that was all a myth. They weren’t even inherently evil. Sure Ramsay could be malicious and he has had so much fun threatening to torture her, but there was just something about him. He seemed to genuinely care.
And that was the most infuriating thing of all.
“As always, I hate to interrupt your thoughts, my little fallen one-“
She gritted her teeth, “I. Haven’t. Fallen.”
“Those pretty little wings of yours would beg to differ.”
She grimaced at the state of them. Charred, broken remnants of what they once were.
An angel’s wings were supposed to be a blinding light in the darkness, a glorious symbol of their divinity that no mere mortal could gaze upon.
But hers were grimy, fractured pieces barely clinging on as more and more fell each passing day.
She wasn’t fallen, that much was true. But she’d never give him the satisfaction of knowing how she came to be there.
“I do so love your musings, but I always wonder. What is it that’s going on underneath that halo of yours, anyway?”
More angel humor. Clever.
“Nothing that should concern you,” she replied sweetly.
He sighed, “Are you ever going to drop the act?”
“It’s not an act.”
“Of course it is. It’s always an act. We’re all pretending. Even a sweet little angel has something to hide.”
“And what is it you have to hide, Bolton?”
“Oh more than you’ll ever know, Stark.”