Ramsay laughed as though he had heard the greatest joke in the world, his whole body shaking, but the hand resting on Jon's shoulder only tightened.
His tone suddenly changed as well, and he addressed Jon with amused disbelief. "You still dare put on airs with me? You really think a few words with my father make you an honored guest of the Dreadfort? Don't forget, Jon Snow, no matter what happens, you're nothing but a bastard with no inheritance and no family name."
"Just like I used to be. But I'm different now. I'm Ramsay Bolton, the lawful heir to the Dreadfort. And you? Aside from that shabby sword in your hand, what do you have, Jon Snow?"
As he spoke, he suddenly leaned closer to Jon, his small eyes glittering with cruelty as they fixed on Jon's face. He lowered his voice, his smile growing more malicious. "Besides, even the former King in the North has bent the knee to the Iron Throne again. What's a bastard like you still doing strutting around the Dreadfort?"
"Or has House Stark already abandoned you? I've heard a few things, you know. Lady Stark thinks very little of your status. After all, what mistress of a household would tolerate proof of her husband's wrongdoing constantly wandering around under her nose?"
"So you might as well be a good dog for me. Perhaps I'll toss you a couple of bones with some meat left on them. We've spent some time together now, so you ought to know I've always been very kind and generous to my dogs."
Jon jerked his arm up and knocked Ramsay's hand away, veins standing out along his arm from the force. At that moment, the direwolf blood in his bones clamored for him to draw his sword