Iwan Rheon: Ramsay Bolton

Kill the Boy

Ramsay Bolton

[Roose and Ramsay are alone. Ramsay is angry after hearing that his stepmother is pregnant]
Ramsay Bolton: How can you be sure?
Roose Bolton: Sure of what?
Ramsay Bolton: That she's pregnant. I mean...
[Ramsay makes a gesture of a fat person]
Ramsay Bolton: ...how can you tell?
Roose Bolton: Maester Wolkan has assured us beyond all doubt.
[Ramsay takes his cup and stands, walking about the room, his expression is displeased]
Ramsay Bolton: So... how did you... manage it?
Roose Bolton: Manage what?
Ramsay Bolton: Getting her pregnant.
Roose Bolton: [dryly] I imagine you're familiar with the procedure.
Ramsay Bolton: Of course, but... how did you... find it?
Roose Bolton: You disgraced yourself at dinner parading that creature before the Stark girl.
Ramsay Bolton: And if it's a boy?
Roose Bolton: [smiles] You're worried about your position.
Ramsay Bolton: My position is quite clear. I'm your son until a better alternative comes along.

[Ramsay and Myranda are nude]
Ramsay Bolton: Come back here. Myranda!
Myranda: I saw you staring at her.
Ramsay Bolton: I'm going to marry her. That will involve looking at her from time to time.
Myranda: [with raging jealousy] You said you'd marry me.
Ramsay Bolton: And I meant it. When I was a bastard named Snow. But I'm a Bolton now. What I want is no longer the primary consideration. I'm furthering a dynasty.
Myranda: Do you think she's pretty?
Ramsay Bolton: [scoffs] Of course I do. I'm not blind.
Myranda: Mm. Perhaps I'll marry too.
[Ramsay sighs, gets up, walks over to Myranda at window]
Ramsay Bolton: You think she is pretty, too. I'm looking forward to our wedding night. But don't worry... I'll have plenty of time for you.
Ramsay Bolton: [laughs] You're the kennel master's daughter. Who are you going to marry, the stable keeper's son?
[Myrada aims a blow at Ramsay, but he grabs her]
Ramsay Bolton: You're mine. You're not going anywhere. Unless I have to listen to more of your jealousy. Jealousy bores me. You remember what happens to people who bore me. You're not going to bore me... are you, Myranda?
[Myranda seems to succumb to Ramsay, her mouth searching out his for a kiss, but then she bites his lower lip, drawing blood]
Myranda: Never.
[Ramsay is excited by this, and reciprocates by being rough]

Walda Bolton: It must be difficult for you, being in a strange place.
Sansa Stark: This isn't a strange place, this is my home. It's the people who are strange.
Ramsay Bolton: You're right. Very strange.