Ramsay Bolton (8)

Ramsay stalked through the halls, expression blank as he wiped the blood off of his hands, his ghostly grey eyes held a sickening pleasure after his most recent hunt.

Ramsay exhaled, listening to his hounds bark from the kennels nearby, swiping his tongue over his lips as he inhaled, his boots clicking against the stone floor.

Ramsay's eyes lit up as he spotted his stepmother, a woman his father just recently married after the slaughter of the Stark's. Ramsay watched her as she moved through the hallway.

Ramsay's lips curled into one of his false, yet genuine-seeming grins, his arms outstretched as he blocked her path, as if requesting a hug.

"Mother."

Ramsay greeted his stepmother with an enthusiastic tone and a head tilt. Ramsay enjoyed playing games such as this, where he could act as if he were a good man, when he was not.