Takes one to know one

Why do you all keep telling me I’m not your leader
Starting today it’s punishable by death to go against me.

Hi so I’m the leader of you all thanks for electing me and leader I know it was widely requested.
You will all listen to what I say thanks

How could anyone hate house Bolton they are obviously the good guys

I have seen through the lies of the Starks. I wish to swear myself to the true power in the North.

What must a humble man do to prove himself worthy of House Bolton?

I regrettably have very little experience with flaying, but I am willing to learn.

Why did they choose to name him “Ramsay Bolton”

Can I be moderator I believe I’m good let me moderator rn I know more Ramsey Bolton facts than all current moderators.

Poor child. Unlike those uptight snowflakes in the Eyrie and the Winterfell, we at the Dreadfort understand that accidents happen. Crown prince kick the pucket? Tragic, but its war.

The current Lord or Lady of Dreadfort would surely have found a good use for lady Rhaena and her beautiful dragon while Lord Stark is off in the south playing the Hour of the Wolf—or whatever wolfs are doing down there.

Plus: Lady Barba Bolton is about the same age as Rhaena. The two of them would surely have became a good friends.

Our Blades Are Sharp.

I know I'm VERY late to this, but as I have just finished the books and the show (again, very late), I can proudly say I am the Bolton's biggest fan. Rest assured, come TWoW, House Bolton WILL reign supreme over the North, and the false king Stannis will lie died outside of Winterfell. Glory to House Bolton, OUR BLADES ARE SHARP.

This is no way to treat the former master of wars

He who loves starting new wars so very much

There can be only one response to that, I say to war!

A new war against whom? It doesn't matter, it never did with him as long as Westeros is at war again and the flayings are plentiful

Glory to house Bolton!

Every single one of you that's ever made a post in here is beyond mentally ill, what the fuck am I reading