Tony

The coarse rope bit into his wrists, tearing into his skin every time he shifted. The ground was cold and bits of twig and sharp rocks dug into his rear and legs. Tony blinked his eyes, trying to shake away the stars that danced in his line of sight. His jaw ached and his tongue felt fat in his mouth, like it was wrapped in cotton. Dried blood ran from his left temple to his chin and the back of his head throbbed with every beat of his heart. His boots had been removed and he could feel heat of the large bonfire the band of thieves had set up on his bare soles.

They'd ripped off his jacket and vest and were passing both around amongst themselves, each trying to claim it as his own. His shirt had been cut open and now hung in tatters on his frame. The main bulk of the survivors of the raid, those who weren't fighting over Tony's clothes, were gathered around the fire, watching as a large boar was spun on a spit, juices popping everyone once and a while. Tony's head lulled to one side and he saw that one of the bandits was slamming a blunt axe against a small chest they'd managed to claim from one of the supply wagons.

"I… I wouldn't bother with that if I were you." Tony looked skyward, wincing slightly.

"Our guest is awake, boys!" One of the bandits, dressed in chainmail and brown leather with red lines painted along the arms and chest, stomped towards Tony, grabbing him by the chin and forcing the weapons maker to look at him. "Welcome to our humble home, Lord Stark. Might I offer you anything to make you more comfortable?"

"Oh, a glass of wine would be lovely," Tony said. "A blanket would be nice too. I'd prefer silk though over cotton. I have delicate skin. Rashes and all that, really nasty." The bandits let out a roar of laughter and Tony decided to join in with them, treating the entire situation as a joke. "Yeah, it's a curse really but I suffer through it."

"Oh, how difficult your life must be, Lord Stark!" brown vest declared. "We of course would know nothing of such things. Ours is an existence of pleasure and ease!"

"Yeah, you guys seem to have pretty pleasant lives… I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

Brown vest let go of Tony and backed away, giving him a sweeping bow. "Phyllup of West Water, at your service."

"Well, Phyllup of West Water, it is wonderful to meet you and your… friends? Associates? Brothers in arms? Whatever you want to call it you all look like you are fine, upstanding kidnappers who would never think of harming someone who is being polite or who is too handsome to die."

"I don't know," one of the raiders called out, "killing handsome and pretty things is a specialty of ours." That earned another round of laughter from the criminals.

"Well, it is always good to have a hobby." Tony grimaced as he heard the ax strike the chest once again. "Seriously, you are just wasting your time. Why don't you have some boar? Smells very good, sure it tastes great too… did you use a sugar glaze on that or-"

Phyllup grabbed Tony once more, his thumb pressing against the lord's windpipe. "You know, I have done this many times, Lord Stark. You are not the first to be honored by joining us. And I have found that whenever a man tells me to leave something alone… it is worth my trouble to examine it. Whenever a woman tells me to not do something… it feels so wonderful to do."

Tony tried hard to hide his disgust. Phyllup released his hold just enough to allow him to breathe. "Well… I guess there is a first time for everything-"

Phyllup backhanded him. "Please don't make me do that again."

"I don't want you to do that again," Tony murmured.

"We are on the same page! Wonderful!" He leaned in close, Tony's nose scrunching up as the rancid scent of old beer and rotting meat struck him right in the face. "If you want us to get along… stop telling us what to do."

"Got it. Do what you want, I don't care, crack open the chest, don't, not up to me." Tony heard a heavy crack and licked his lips. "Not a word from me, nope, no way, none."

"What is this?" the ax-wielding bandit bellowed, lifting up a blue gown and shaking it at Tony. The chest, with its broken lock, lay tossed aside on the ground.

"I think it is a Lannisport design." He looked over at one raider who was missing his nose, one of his ears, and had blackened head-wound running along his forehead. "You would look lovely in that. Really, I mean it. Matches your eyes-"

Phyllup struck him again. "What is this shit?"

"My wife's gowns. She locks them up, not sure why. I guess she thinks they are going to get stolen or something…" Tony closed his eyes and grit his teeth, waiting for a moment before slowly letting one eye slide open. "Sorry, thought you were going to-" The crack of Phyllup's hand against his jawbone, "-smack me again."

"You think this is a game?" Phyllup snarled, all signs of playfulness leaving him.

"Well, I did before you hit me… I can't say this is the first time I've been tied up and stripped before." Phyllup reared back and Tony cringed. "Ok, ok! You are serious, very serious. Phyllup the Very Serious! Got it!"

The leader of the raiders nodded, stepping back and running his grubby fingers through his tangled hair. Tony was surprised his hand didn't get stuck. "Good. I am very pleased you are beginning to understand the gravity of the situation." Phyllup walked back to the stump he had been using and sat down, motioning towards the shadows. Tony heard a muffled yelp and then a nude girl, maybe five-and-ten, entered the clearly, her body covered in burns and scars. Her every step was stilted, as if every movement caused her pain. "Down," Phyllup said and the girl dropped to her knees. Tony shut his eyes and turned his head, letting out a pained sigh, hoping he was wrong about what Phyllup was about to do next. "Oh, are you bashful, Lord Stark?"

"No no," Tony said, trying to stay casual. "Just… something in my eye. By all means, you and your… lady friend… just keep doing what you're doing."

"Lady friend?" No-Nose laughed. "Look at that, whore, you've been moved up to lady friend!"

Phyllup let out a groan and shoved the girl away. The bandit stood up, adjusted himself, then reached towards the fire and pulling out a long metal pole with a flat ring attached to the end. He looked at it for a moment before prodding at some coals, his smile made all the more sinister by the flickering flames. Tony's eyes flicked towards the broken girl that lay crumpled by the fire.

"Oh, do not worry yourself… this is not for her." Phyllup began to walk around the fire, the rest of his men quieting down and paying close attention. Tony suddenly had the vision of his septa leading story time for all the children at his father's holdfast. "Do you know how we came to acquire this wonderful little item?"

"The girl or the prod?"

"The girl." He lazily prodded one of the larger timbers, sparks shooting up as it fell onto the hot coals. "She came to us the same way we acquire much of what we have."

"By stealing?" Tony asked.

The thieves chuckled at that. "No, Lord Stark, not by theft. We still do go on raids, from time to time, when our blood needs to be boiled, but the days of that providing us our bread and salt have long since past." Phyllup pulled the poker out again, smiling as he examined the glowing ring at the end. "Have you ever heard of the Dohraki? They live across the Narrow Sea and their hordes can stretch for miles. They are so fierce that now, when they approach a city, they do not need to attack its walls. The good people happily offer them gold and food and women and slaves, all in the hope that the Dohraki will turn their attention onto someone new.

"When I head those tales and thought to myself that those savages had a brilliant idea. Why raid and pillage when you could simply receive your prizes with the promise to do no harm to those you target? Such a strategy has made us all… very happy." Phyllup took a moment to thrust the poker once more into the flames before reaching down to tenderly touch the nude girl's cheek. "We did well in the Reach. Lords feared us and travelers packed double just to be prepared to give us tribute. They'll write songs about those days, mark my words Lord Stark! Tell me, do you of Lord Oaker?"

Tony did. Oaker was one of the Tyrell bannermen, a decent fighter and a terrible person. He'd won many victories against his enemies by sacrificing his men in needless charges and pointless attacks. When he looked upon a person he saw them not as something living but as something of value, weighing the risk and reward of their lives.

"This is his only daughter. A pretty thing, don't you think?" Phyllip forced the girl up and licked the side of her face; the child didn't even blink. "He was the smart one, Lord Stark. So many lords have daughters and then have to pay out portions of their wealth to marry her off to another lord. By giving her to us Lord Oaker saved himself a dowry and got us to leave the Reach alone."

Tony's jaw set and bucked forward, his eyes dark and murderous. There was simply no way he could pretend to be civil with the monsters that sat before him.

"Oh, he doesn't like that boys! We've got ourselves an actual heroic lord, out to save the innocent. That is a rare thing in the Seven Kingdoms. You hear about it and plenty try and play the part, but to see one in person? It's like finding an Other!" Phyllup leered at him. "You especially are a surprise, Lord Stark. Heroic and noble are not words we smallfolk use for the likes of you." Snatching the prod, Phyllup advanced towards Tony, the weapons-maker struggling against his bonds as the raider brought the glowing hot brand closer and closer to his bare chest. Tony could feel the heat of the burning ring and even though it hadn't yet touched his skin his chest already began to throb in pain. "You and your friends believe themselves so much better than the rest of us. You view us as cattle and sheep, only there to supply you with more wealth. You don't care about any of us, Lord Stark, not a single one of us. The only thing that matters is your own greed."

"Listen… listen," Tony said, sucking in his chest to try and get away from the brand. "I… I get it. You're angry with me. I can't blame you that is a common-" the brand nearly grazed his left nipple and Tony let out a yelp, "-common! Common feeling. I tend to rub people the wrong way! Talk too much, drink too much, talk when I drink and drink when I talk. But I'm sure we can work something out… no need to be hasty or anything."

Phyllup merely stared at him. "That is all you lords can think about, isn't it? That you can just toss money and titles about and you will be forgiven. Men like us, we would be headed for the wall or find our heads on spikes if we were caught. But you lords… you can murder and rape and steal and break every law made by the king and the gods and you believe that you'll never have to face physically punishment because you were blessed to be born into wealth! Steal a man's land? Give his son a knighthood and all is forgiven! Fill his daughter up with a bastard? Why, just toss some coins about and no one cares!"

"I'm… I'm sensing that you have some issues with me… or people like me. That's no reason to go and mutilate me, right?" Tony could feel that the ropes that bound him had cut into his wrists and more of his blood was oozing from him. "Why don't you put your burning stick down and we can discuss my ransom… and I realize how ironic that sounds, since you were complaining about throwing money about-"

"You still haven't realized your situation, have you my lord? This raid was not about kidnapping you… it was about claiming you."

Phyllup lunged forward and Tony screamed in agony as the heated ring burned his flesh. While it wasn't as hot as it had been when first emerging from the flames, the ring still held heat and Tony howled as it melted his skin and seared his muscles. He could feel it pressing against his collar bone and through his pain-induced delirium he feared that it would shatter and Phyllup would burn his heart right out of his chest. Tony thrashed and screamed but the raider kept the brand pressed tight to his chest, refusing to let go. The lord of Iron Pointe howled in agony, several of the other cuts and wounds on his body bursting open once more as his muscles seized.

The raider pulled the brand away, bits of skin clinging to the metal like melted cheese. Tony gasped, tears streaming from his eyes, each gasping breath he took sending another stab of pain through his quaking body. He heard laughter and let out another cry when a pail of cold water was thrown on him, soaking him to the bone. He managed to open his eyes and watched numbly as steam rose from his scarred chest.

"You've been betrayed, my lord. Another, with more power than you can ever hope to have, took it in his head to have you dealt with. He will ensure that none of us are ever punished for your death… so long as we make it last. I don't know why he wants you to suffer and I honestly don't care… hell, I would have done this for nothing." Phyllup thrust the poker into the flames, waiting a moment before pulling it free once more. "Now you know what it's like to be us. Now you know what it is like to be expendable. Your money is worthless, your titles are worthless… you are no different than my little whore. I get to play with you… and toss you away." He walked back to Tony, pointing the brand at him. "Now… should I go for the face…" he let the poker slowly dip till it lined up with Tony's manhood. "Boys, I think I'd like to have his pants-"

Tony mutely heard a whistle fill the air, followed by a wet 'thwack'. He looked up, his body shivering from the pain and the cold water, and stared at the captor. Phyllup had dropped the poker, not even noticing that the heated ring was burning into his shoe. The raider gasped dumbly, reaching out and touching the arrow that was now lodged through his mouth and out the back of his throat. He looked at Tony, confused, before toppling to the side, crimson blood gushing from his mouth.

Tony watched, eyes wide, as Rhodey stormed into the camp with 20 of his best swordsmen and guards. The raiders leapt up but their drunkenness had made them sluggish and led them to set aside their weapons and that cost them precious time. The soldiers of Iron Pointe were in a battle frenzy, seeking not only to recover their lord but avenge those that had fallen in the raid. The ropes ensured that Tony would remain in one place and all he could do was watch as his men butchered his captors. A few of the raiders attempted to flee and were rewarded with arrows through their backs for their troubles. The swordsmen fell upon these wounded man, hacking them to pieces before moving on to the next. Rhodey was dealing the most damage, his Valyrian short sword singing as it removed one thief's head from his neck. Delirious from pain, Tony's mind went back to how Rhodey had obtained that blade.

It had been in Bravos, shortly after Tony had met the man that would become commander of his forces. The two of them had been drinking and, as Pepper so lovingly put it, Tony's mouth went off before his brain could realize what he was saying. Tony was still a bit fuzzy on how the bet had come about but the end result saw Rhodey challenging 10 members of some mercenary group; Tony honestly couldn't remember with one. Each was a sellsword, known for their skill with weapons and their effective battle techniques. Three of them, the leaders of the mob, had carried Valyrian steel daggers and believed that Rhodey would die by their first man's blade. After the dark-skinned warrior had taken out the first three the rest of the company had broken the battle pact and charged. Rhodey had killed them all, a whirlwind of death, and claimed their daggers as his right of conquest. Tony, in gratitude, had melted the daggers down and reforged them into a short, wide broad sword with a pommel of black lined with silver and gifted it to his friend on the day he was knighted.

"Lord Antony!" Tony was torn from his thoughts by someone cutting his bonds and when he opened his eyes he found himself looking upon Jon Snow's face. The young man had his bow slung over his shoulder and his brow was wet with sweat. Jon knelt in front of him, running his hands along Tony's face and peeling his eyes open. "Lord Antony, can you hear me?"

"I wish I could say this is the worst I've ever felt," Tony said weakly, nearly sliding down onto the ground before Jon caught him and hauled him back up.

"We need the maester!" Jon shouted.

Rhodey hurried over, taking a moment to kick one of the still twitching thieves in the head. "No good scum," Rhodey spat as he looked upon Tony's mutilated chest. "Yorrick, go get Maester Jarvis now! Tell him to bring everything he has to treat burns. Nob, make sure Pepper doesn't come anywhere near here until I say so! She doesn't need to see him like this." Rhodey scowled as he looked Tony over. "And send word we ride! Jarvis won't be able to do much out here other than stabilize him! We need to get to a castle or a keep now!"

"Pepper…" Tony groaned. "She… Pepper…"

"She's fine, Lord Antony," Jon said, looking around the ruins of the campsite. His jaw was clenched and his hands balled up in fists at his sides. "What was their purpose?"

"Torture… death…" Tony mumbled. Rhodey slowly helped him to his feet and Tony fought back the pained cry that desperately tried to claw its way out of his throat. "The girl… is she…?"

"Girl?" Rhodey asked. "Tony what girl?"

"Girl… they had… tortured her too…"

Rhodey merely nodded. "Jon, see if you can find the girl." The boy nodded, stepping around the corpses that littered the ground and avoiding the swordmen that were sweeping through the camp. Tony's head lulled to one side, resting on Rhodey's shoulder, watching as his men collect the discarded weapons and tore through the crates and chests the thieves had gathered, determining what would be worth to take back with them. For one dull, horrible moment, he saw them as no different than the raiders that took him. "They managed to get only a couple bags of grain and a chest."

"How… how many did we lose?"

"Eight swordsman, three of the page boys, and the cook. Jarvis is working to save another two of my men but I'm not confident." Rhodey looked over at Tony, shifting him slightly. "What the hell was all this about?"

"Not here," Tony stated. Jon was crouched over a pale body but Tony felt his heart sink as the boy shook his head. "The girl?" he called out.

"Gone. Throat was slit in all the confusion."

Tony grit his teeth. "Damn." He looked at Rhodey, mustering up as much of his strength as he could. "We need to burn the bodies or bury them. Destroy the camp so no one stumbles upon it. Take everything we can and scatter the rest."

"Tony, why-"

"Just… just do it, Rhodey. Tell the men they… they don't speak… speak about this to anyone."

Rhodey looked ready to argue but finally relented. "Ok Tony, ok." He began to bark out orders, Jon moving to help two of the men load up an empty crate with the acquired daggers, swords and axes. Tony, for his part, clung to Rhodey, knowing that his legs wouldn't be able to support his weight. His chest ached horribly but it was nothing to what he felt in his heart as he watched Lord Oaker's girl being covered up. "Tony… what was all this about?"

"Betrayal," Tony said as he slipped into unconsciousness.

~MC~MC~MC~

Author's Note: Not much to say about this chapter. I didn't feel like stringing out Tony's capture for long and it wouldn't fit this world to have Tony captured to make weapons. Better fitting that someone in Westeros wants Tony dead… and better fitting he make whoever did it think the raiders took the money and ran.

Next chapter things switch up as we move across the Narrow Sea to Daenerys… and another character from the Marvel universe is introduced as her new protector…