"Boss, I don't think it was the best idea to take her, and I think it's a worse idea to keep her. She's Tywin Lannister's daughter for fuck sake, he won't just settle for the local cops; he's got enough clout to call in the feds. Knowing Tywin, he's probably got a direct line to Hoover himself. I think we should just ditch er somewhere." Ben said, as Ramsay joined the rest of the boys at the table. One of Lizzie's girls sauntering over and pouring him a drink before draping herself around his shoulders.

"And where do you suggest we ditch her?" Ramsay asked as he swirled the drink around in his glass. Feeling the anger grow inside him.

"I don't know, but wherever it is she'll have to be a corpse. She's seen too much; she knows about this place. The bitch could finger all of us; armed robbery is one thing, kidnapping is another. I say I go out into the woods, dig a hole and put her in it." Ben said with a shrug, as he hoped for once that Ramsay would listen to reason.

The rest of the bastard's boys jumped as a loud bang and a scream suddenly echoed through the room. All of them turning to look at Ramsay who now stood, a smoking gun in his hand staring down at the lifeless body of Ben, who had a neat extra hole between his eyes.

"DOES ANYONE ELSE FEEL LIKE QUESTIONING MY DECISIONS?" Ramsay growled as he glared at the other men.

"No one, but no one touches her, okay? If we work this right it won't matter what she knows. We can get enough money out of Tywin to start a new life out of the way of the Lannisters, Westeros and the feds. I don't give a fuck if the old lion calls in the gods themselves, we follow my plan, we get a ransom and we get the fuck outta here." Ramsay barked, as he slammed his pistol down on the table.

"Yeah boss, no problem; it's a great plan." Luton replied nervously as he looked over at the lifeless body of Ben. The rest of the men looking at one another, hoping that they weren't going to be next.

"Er......what do ya want us to do with him?" Skinner enquired, as he turned his attention to the body that was now surrounded by a pool of crimson.

"We'll use his suggestion. Go into the woods, dig a hole and put him in it. For once Ben actually had a good idea, shame it was his last." Ramsay chuckled as he looked down at the dead man. Kicking the lifeless corpse before he sat back down at the table.

                                                            >>-------------------------------<<

(Y/n) looked around the little room, that had nothing but a bed, a small table, a wash basin and jug in it. The youngest Lannister annoyed that there was nothing that she could use as a weapon when the bastard of Dreadfort or one of his men next came into the room. Quickly she walked over to look at the small window that was the only natural source of light in the room.

"Damn it!" (Y/n) groaned, as she found the thing was bolted and nailed shut. The lioness knowing that is she broke it, it would certainly alert Ramsay or one of his idiotic goons.

Tentatively, she sat back on the corner of the bed. It seemed obvious that Ramsay was going to try and put her up for ransom, expecting that the Lannister patriarch would pay up. But (Y/n) knew her father better than that. She knew that he would never kowtow to a common northern criminal, and that he would have the local police and probably the feds looking for her as soon as possible. And reasoned that it would be better to stay where she was and let the cops come to her. Even though there was no love lost between the Lannisters and Ramsay, it seemed as though he had no real ill will towards her. And in fact, apart from him kidnapping her, holding her against her will, and dragging her into a cathouse, he had been strangely nice, for a killer and bank robber.

(Y/n) suddenly leapt off the bed as she heard a loud bang that sounded like a gunshot followed by a scream, and then what sounded like Ramsay shouting. Cautiously she put her ear to the door, trying to hear what was being said, but the shout had died down and everything seemed to have gone quiet once again. Leaving (Y/n) with nothing more to do but return to the bed.

It had seemed like hours that she had sat precariously on the edge of the bed. There was no way that she was going to settle on to it any further, she knew what kind of place this was and who those women were, and she could only imagine what had happened between those sheets.

It wasn't that she judged the women for what they did, (Y/n) knew that people sometimes had to do things they didn't want to just to keep food in their bellies and a roof over their heads. She had spent many, many hours working with the poor of the city; she had seen women like these before, she had seen men like Ramsay before, and although she couldn't understand totally, she had certainly tried. When she had read the reports in the newspapers about the illegitimate son of Roose Bolton, there was part of her that could understand why he had done what he'd done, become what he'd become.

Westeros, and in particular, the north, wasn't the easiest place to live. It was tough and hard, and being the bastard of a man like Roose, a man that held that illegitimacy over his son's head like the sword of Damocles, must have made it even harder. She had heard the stories about how Roose had treated Ramsay. About how he would undermine and embarrassed him, and it seemed to (Y/n) that he had had a lonely life, unloved and mistreated by most of the north. And there was part of her that wondered what Ramsay might have turned out like if he had actually been cared for and loved. She knew of Ramsay's hatred for her father, of his hatred for her last name, and how he would like to bring her family down; so, no matter how much she thought she could understand, she most certainly wasn't going to make things easy for her captor.

The door to the room slowly creaked open, a large shaft of light cutting through the darkness, causing (Y/n) to shield her eyes.

"Ya hungry?" A smooth, warm voice asked from the doorway.

(Y/n)'s eyes fluttering as they adjusted to the stream of light that flooded in; finally, being able to make out a figure in the doorway.

"I brought ya some food, it isn't much but it's better than starving."

(Y/n) knew the voice; it sounded like Ramsay, but it seemed calmer. A small light appearing as the figure lit a candle, the light from the flickering flame catching on the features of the man. Apart from when he had been on top of her in the woods, this was the first time that she had not been too preoccupied to notice his features. They were angular, but soft and well defined, and his eyes that sparkled in the radiant glow of the wax light, gave him an unnatural beauty that she couldn't deny. His whole appearance giving her the same feeling in the pit of her stomach that she had had in the woods when he had touched her cheek.

"It's some kinda stew, I'm not sure what the hell's in, and I wouldn't ask too many questions if I were you, but it better than nothing." Ramsay chuckled, as he came into the room and placed a plate and the candle on the small table, before turning to face (Y/n).

"You've got blood on your shirt." (Y/n) said, not knowing whether it was a question or a statement.

"Yeah, well that's what happens when ya shoot an idiot between the eyes. I'm surprised I hit anything to be honest. He never did have much of a brain." Ramsay sniggered, furrowing his brows as the youngest lioness didn't even looked shocked at the knowledge that he had just killed someone.

"Your odd, ya know that, don't ya?" Ramsay asked, as he took a seat next to her on the bed.

"What? I'm odd because I don't find you intimidating in any way. You do remember who my family are don't you? My father, my older brothers and sister? My families fortune is built on the backs of the poor and downtrodden. And the Lannisters have never been averse to using violence when they deemed it necessary. It's not the first time in my life that I have heard a gunshot." (Y/n) scoffed, making Ramsay laugh all the more.

"Yeah, I guess ya right there, you ain't like the usual dames I deal with. One look at me and most people run off like scared mice. I found your reaction quiet refreshing." Ramsay told her. (Y/n) tuning to look at him.

"Well, I'm so glad to know that I stimulate you." (Y/n) said, staring into his eyes, knowing very well that her words could mean more than one thing.

As she spoke, Ramsay felt an overwhelming urge to kiss her, to push her back onto the bed and pound into her relentlessly until she screamed his name over and over again; pleading for him to take her, to do whatever his heart desired to her.

Inwardly he chastised himself, she was a Lannister, and he hated the Lannisters, all of them, including her. He wanted to go and burn Casterly Rock and the Red Keep to the ground. He wanted to break them, to destroy their name. Yet here sat the daughter of the man he hated, and all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and protect her from the others, and even from himself. Hell, he'd only just shot one of his most trusted men to protect her, and part of him feared what else he would do before all this was over.

"Why do you hate my family." The sudden question bringing Ramsay crashing back to reality. The northerner turning to look at her, seeing no anger in her eyes, just curiosity and a strange sadness.

"Your family, and every other rich family are what is wrong with Westeros. Oh, your father likes to talk a good talk, but when it comes down to it, he can't walk the walk. I know all about your family; patrons of this, patrons of that. Lannisters are the champions of the poor, well its bullshit! None of you know what it's like to struggle, to fight for every cent you make; to hear shots ring out in the night and not know if one of those bullets has your name on it, to not know if today is your last day on earth. Your people think you can buy and sell people like me, that we are disposable; hell, it is cheaper to work one of us to death and hire someone else than it is to buy an animal to do the job." Ramsay told her as he got up from the bed and started to pace the floor, the anger slowly building up in him. The gangster feeling a need to make her see, to make her understand. He didn't know why, but it was important.

"Do ya know what its like ta be a bastard. Ta be hated by ya own father for even existing. Ta feel like at any moment he would have no problem in snuffing out your life. Ta know that ya only exist because ya father raped ya mother. Ta be mistreated because you had no choice to be born without a name. My father and men like Tywin Lannister helped make me who I am today. As soon as I arrived in Kings Landing, your father demonised me, made me feared, he made me powerful, he made me strong, just like my father did in the north. And he is as much to blame for my crimes, as I am." Ramsay continued, as he breathed heavily. Finally feeling as though a great weight had been taken from his shoulders. Feeling a cathartic sense of relief as he was able to explain himself.

"Hope."

"What?" Ramsay asked, wanting to know what (Y/n) had just whispered.

"Hope." (Y/n) repeated as she looked up at him, an uncomfortable coldness on her features.

"When Pandora opened the box, all the evils known to mankind were set free. But at the bottom of the box, weak and small, was hope. No matter how bad things seem, or how dark the night; or when it seems like there's nothing more you can do, someone will bring you that hope and show you that anything is possible." (Y/n) continued as she stood up and leaned against the window looking up into the starry sky.

"Westeros, and especially Kings Landing is very much like Pandora's box. It contains all that evil; evil that you and others like you have released. But I still have hope, hope for Kings Landing, and hope for you....... Ramsay." She said softly, thinking about the dark dangerous city that she strangely loved.

"It is just a shame that you have lost yours." A long period of silence ensuing before (Y/n) spoke again.

"I know that you are going to ransom me back to my father. You're probably hoping for a big pay off, and I can assure you that he will do anything and everything to get me back, but he won't give you a dime. He will call in every favour, call on every contact, every connection that he has, and he will have you hunted down like a dog." (Y/n) told him as she turned to face him. The stoicism on her face, sending a shiver down his spine.

"You see we Lannisters never do anything by halves, it's all or nothing. We were taught never to give in, and that is what we do. So, if you think that either my father or my siblings are going to capitulate to you, you have another thing coming. And the longer you make me stay in this house of ill repute, the more I'm going to make your life as miserable as possible. You see Ramsay, despite your fancy words and illegitimate status, you are still the son of a privileged man. Your father is not poor, and you yourself have benefitted from that. And even though I can only imagine what it is like to have a man like Roose Bolton as a father, you are not the only one whose father created something that he can't control. So be ready to reap the whirlwind." (Y/n) explained, as she looked deep into his eyes.

Ramsay couldn't help but stare. Maybe he had bitten off more than he could chew, maybe the idea of having a Lannister under his control had led him to do something foolish; but it was too late now. Despite what she had said, the ransom note would be sent, and Tywin Lannister would pay up. She would go back to her privileged life, with her galas and balls, and all those pretty socialite boys that probably fawned over her. And she would forget about him, and what had happened; and he, well he was a different matter.

He had told the boys that they would get away from Kings Landing, and maybe they would. But Ramsay belonged in Westeros, without it, without the fear of the populace he would be nothing again, and he couldn't have that. He liked the notoriety, the power, the respect, the fear that his psychotic reputation gave him; it was intoxicating, a heady mix of getting everything you wanted and not having to deal with the consequences of having it.

Ramsay knew he would die in Westeros, in Kings Landing. Sooner or later, he would die there in that dark dirty city; whether by a bullet from a cop's gun or by one from one of his many rivals. Ramsay and the city, were, and would always be one.

As he stared at the beautiful woman in front of him, a small part of him couldn't help but wish things could be different. He could envisage himself dressed in a well-tailored black tuxedo, his dark locks slicked back neatly over his head, drinking champagne in some swanky jazz club. And then she would appear, in a long black silk dress, flashing a brilliant smile that was meant just for him. He would take her hand and lead her to the dance floor, where they would dance the night way, forgetting that the rest of the world existed. But that was all fanciful, they came from different worlds. She was a lioness, and he the bastard of the Dreadfort. And never the twain shall meet.

"Well, I shouldn't keep you any longer." (Y/n) said cutting through the heavy atmosphere.

"I am sure that you have better things to do than stand here and discuss the woes of the world with me, I am just a hostage after all. I am sure that one of those.........er........ladies out there would provide the great Ramsay Bolton with better company than I ever could; what with me being an abusive, idiotic, corrupt, moron, that doesn't know how the real world works because I ,of course. have spent all my life in an ivory tower swimming in my money as I threw small folk to rabid dogs." (Y/n) told him as continued to stare at him.

"I didn't mean you." Ramsay retorted, shaking his head and feeling uncharacteristically weak.

"But I'm a Lannister, therefore I'm what's wrong with the Kings Landing. What's wrong with Westeros. That is what you said isn't it?" She questioned, as Ramsay finally began to feel his blood begin to boil.

"Ok, if ya gonna be a bitch about it and twist my words then fine! You are as big a problem as every other rich, over privileged asshole in that city. You asked why I didn't like your family and I told you, I can't be blamed for you not liking my answer. And maybe I will go and enjoy the company of one of Lizzie's girls, cos the gods know, they all want a piece of me." Ramsay replied, glaring at her.

"Well, you must be very proud that women you have to pay before they will do anything, all want you. Or maybe it's only your wallet they are interested in, because I seriously doubt there is anything else to be interested in, in your pants!" (Y/n) scoffed, her eyes slowly assessing his crotch.

"Oh, don't fight it sweetheart, you've wanted a piece of me since I walked into that bank. I could feel you get all excited as you sat on my lap in the car. But I have standards, and unfortunately for you, you don't meet them." Ramsay chuckled, as he could finally see the lioness lose her cool.

"STANDARDS?! HA! Don't make me laugh. And don't flatter yourself. I wouldn't touch you even if you were the last man on the planet." (Y/n) insisted, her eyes as wide as saucers.

"If your standards are one of those girls out there then your right, I don't meet your standards, I surpass them. So off you pop, I don't want to keep you from those desperate women any longer." She huffed, shooing him away.

"Fine, I will." Ramsay said, stomping the short distance to the door.

"Good, you do that."

"Fine."

"FINE!" (Y/n) yelled, crossing her arms over her chest.

"FINE!"