A/N: I really wanted to give up on this fic. It has been hell sitting down to write anything in all honesty. My outline that I finally perfected was on my phone that I shattered so that is gone and I am now working blindly. I lost my count on how many months and weeks Ygritte is and how long everyone has been where they are and etc so I'm going to have to sit down and re-read everything and attempt to make an outline again. Then, my laptop charger broke and I couldn't get one for another week and then this week I got in to my first car accident since I've been a car owner and my shoulder is extremely stiff. BUT, I came home and got my will to write back so thank you to everyone being so patient with me. I appreciate you all! Thank you for passing through! Thank you for reading! Thank you for reviews, favorites, follows and anything else that I may have forgotten to mention!

The dead littered the ground. Blood coated the ground, washing the land of all the sin that had just occurred there. Ramsay was coated in it and he couldn't have been happier. He wasn't sure how much of it was his and how much of it belonged to others. His left arm was stiff. It burned and pain shot through it when he moved it a certain way. He held it with his right hand as he walked around and through the men that remained alive.

There were causalities of course, but things could have been worse. He was overall happy with how things had gone.

His arm had taken a hit. Jon was fine. He was bloody, but fine. Osmund had taken a blade to the face. Now his eye that was slit shut had a matching gash going from the side of his chin up to behind his ear. The sand snakes had lost Nymeria. The Hound and Arya were both fine. The main players were very much alive besides Nymeria. Ramsay considered that a win.

Joffrey had been beheaded, his head posted on a stick near the entrance to their camp. The Mountain had lost his head as well. Arya had taken care of Ilyn Payne. No one had asked her how, but it had gotten done. Cersei and Tywin were taken in to custody; Tywin in a room on the other side of Jaime. Cersei was dragged by her hair and tied to a post in the middle of the camp. Ramsay had wanted to humiliate her, but of course Jon always the gentlemen had vetoed any course of action like that. Ramsay had grumbled and grated, but fallen prey to Jon's will. He was just happy the battle had closed. He was amazed. There were men of his that were still blood free- men in the trees that hadn't had to send their blade through anyone.

Ramsay completed his walk around the camp with The Hound and Arya, helping any of their men that needed help and murdering their enemies that were still clinging to life. He had all of his wounded men gathered together, fed and treated. He had his healthy men collect the swords of their dead enemies. There was no reason to waste good steel. He made sure everyone was doing what they needed to do. He made sure there was alcohol and bandages for everyone.

He took men to Joffrey's camp and stole by the wagons what he thought they may need; tents, food and extra clothing/blankets. It wasn't as if their dead would need them and his injured did.

The sun had collapsed and made way for the moon by the time he collapsed inside his tent with Jon, The Hound, Arya, Osmund and the two remaining Sand Snakes.

They were all tired.… except for maybe The Hound who looked like he never had any feelings at all. Arya and Jon shared a seat, Jon leaned back, one of his hands in the back of the girl's hair as she leaned forward on the table before her, her face held up by her hands. On the other side Osmund was leaned on one elbow against the table, his other hand occupied by booze and The Hound sat straight up, beside him, a drink of his own set before him. Both sand snakes stood, Obara behind Osmund and The Hound and Tyrene behind Jon and Arya.

When Ramsay took them in he was drained just by their sight.

He took his seat at the head of the small table anyway.

He took in the bandage covering Osmund's neck, but didn't comment. He cleared his throat and took in the crumpled map before him.

"How many injured?"

"Maybe a forth with serious injuries," Jon said simply.

"We send them home- all of them."

"Them?" Arya yawned and sat up a little, "Just them?"

"Just them, and you if you'd like your leave," Ramsay said calmly, "but our work isn't quite done yet."

"We lost a sister!" Tyrene snapped.

Obara yanked her band from the end of her braid and shot her sister a look.

"You bended no knee to me," Ramsay shrugged, "You can go home whenever you please, Tyrene."

"I-" the youngest sand snake paused at the look her older sister gave her.

She crossed her arms over her chest and took a deep breath. Obara turned back to Ramsay and gathered her hair in her hands and rung it out blood and sweat seeping out of the ends.

"Continue," she said warily.

"We just took care of the last of the Lannisters. The thrown would go to the Baratheons, but both of his brothers have died."

"Right so the thrown goes to-"

"Whoever takes it," Ramsay interrupted Arya, "We march on King's Landing in 2 weeks."

"Are you serious?" Osmund scoffed.

"Yes."

"So we send our injured home and then what?" Jon asked.

"We send our injured home. We send for Brarton, Bronn and the men that were with them. We allow Tormund to rejoin us and for Brienne to rejoin Sansa. We take King's Landing from the youngest Lannister."

"Someone will have gotten to it before us," The Hound grumbled.

"And then we will remove them."

"You don't even want to be king," Osmund griped.

"I don't want a king that will cause another war with us either. I have a plan, Osmund."

"Of course you do," he smirked and took another drink.

"Any other objections?"
A shriek echoed through the camp. The people in the tent recognized it at once. Cersei was bitching again.

"What do we do about that?" Obara began to re-braid her hair.

"I wanted Joffrey and I got him. Consider Cersei a gift from the Starks to you," Ramsay waved his hand dismissively, "Consider Tywin for Margaery and we'll keep Jaime. He's the one I despise least. Anything else?" Ramsay paused briefly, "Good. Then, get rest, all of you."

The Hound and Tyrene both filed out quickly.

"Were you serious?" Obara asked, walking towards the flap of the tent slowly.

"Yes. Do what you please with her. Just get her out of my camp," Ramsay cracked his neck and winced at the pain in his arm, "and bring back a souvenir for her incestuous lover and her father."

"Of course," Obara smirked and let herself out.

Ramsay looked around his table.

"What?"

"You want to take King's Landing?" Jon asked the question slowly.

"Yes, Jon, and you are going to help me."

"You don't want to run off? Back to my sister and your children?"

Ramsay took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Of course I do," he said simply, "but I just beheaded the king. Obara is about to torture the Queen Mother and most the boy's remaining family is tied to a post in our camp. We've committed treason and we need to be pardoned."

"So you plan on taking the thrown and pardoning us?"

"No," Ramsay scoffed, "I would never claim that damned piece of metal junk that they call a thrown."

"So what's your plan?" Osmund snapped.

Ramsay shrugged and winced.

"Just know that there is a plan."

"Of course," Osmund rolled his eyes and drowned down the rest of his glass, "Well while you plan, I'm going to drink myself in to a stupor over my lost lover," Osmund stood and grabbed up his empty mug.

"You aren't going to tell him that this is a suicide mission?" Jon called.

"No," Osmund called over his shoulder, "Some of us actually welcome death, Stark," he yanked back the tent flap and let himself out.

Jon sighed and looked to Arya.

"I can't ask the free folk to fight another battle for us that isn't necessary."

"Send them home then, Jon."

"You can manage without them?"

"I'll send for the men that we left at The Twins, Riverrun and The Eyrie."

"Ramsay-"

"I'm not changing my mind," Ramsay cut Jon off, "If you want to return home you may. Return to my wife and our children and be there for her. She would welcome it."

Jon opened his mouth and then clamped it shut. He needed to approach Ramsay the right way. If he didn't they would argue and not discuss. Tonight emotions were running a little too high.

"Goodnight," Jon stood up and shook his head before heading out, his right hand holding the hilt of his sword dangerously hard.

Ramsay watched him go before turning his attention to the last person standing- young Arya.

"Do you actually think that we can win?" she asked quietly.

"If I didn't I wouldn't give you an option to come along, Arya."

"Then, to King's Landing we march," she smirked.

"Ah! There's my warrior!" Ramsay clapped his hands together and then cursed quietly.

"Get that wound cleaned before it has to be taken off," Arya noted his change in demeaner, shook her head and stood up, "You aren't any good to anyone dead."

"Very true," Ramsay jeered, "Very True indeed, younger sister."